THE 


UNKNOWN  CITY: 


A  STORY  OF  NEW  YORK. 


BY 


W.  T.  WASHBURN. 


Part  I. — Price,    *7  Cents. 


NEW  YORK : 

jesse  H-A-Ukte -sr  c&  oo.„ 

119  Nassau  Street. 


 SEYMOUR  DURST 

£>HL-  M"7fc3      6d<   /og  ■  

THE  PORTRAIT   AND  OTHER  POEMS.* 

New  York.   Jesse  Haney  &  Co. 

"  The  citations  which  we  may  be  led  to  make  from  this  collection 
will  demonstrate  that  we  have  here  something  more  substantial  than 
a  promise — that  the  execution  of  these  poems,  while  uneven,  is 
already  marked  by  a  high  quality  of  artistic  workmanship  and  by 
genuine  imaginative  power. 

Those  exacting  persons  who  cannot  forgive  in  some  robust  Ameri- 
can poets  occasional  shortcomings  in  scholarship  and  conventional 
lore  will  find  nothing  to  chafe  them  in  this  volume.  We  see  ampler 
ground  for  satisfaction  in  the  fact  that  a  manifestly  ripe  and  accu- 
rate knowledge  of  books  has  not  stranded  this  writer  on  the  shal- 
lows of  dilettanteism,  or  impelled  him,  as  so  many  studious  versifi- 
ers are  drifted,  toward  the  treadmill  of  translation.  The  author  of 
the  "Portrait"  has  not  made  his  culture  the  subject  of  his  musings, 
but  relegates  it  to  its  true  function  as  the  arsenal  of  expression.  "We 
discover  here  small  trace  of  the  puerile  vanity  so  apt  to  be  in- 
grained in  men  of  letters.  We  are  not  marshalled  with  complacency 
through  the  storehouse  of  memory,  but  the  writer  seems  to  go  forth 
with  keen,  fresh  senses  into  the  bracing  air  of  life,  yielding  himself, 
with  glad  self-surrender,  to  those  aspects  of  nature  which  enthrall 
ear  and  eye,  or  to  the  old  theme  of  man's  love  for  woman,  which, 
on  the  lips  of  a  true  singer,  still  comes  to  us  reinvested  with  the 
spell  of  a  delicious  novelty.  And  here,  before  noticing  some  more 
sustained  and  serious  performances  in  this  volume,  we  may  repro- 
duce two  or  three  of  the  many  love  songs  which  fill  a  moiety  of  its 
pages.  It  is  noteworthy  that  we  do  not  trace  any  imitation  of  con- 
temporary poets  in  these  short  lyrics.  If,  for  instance,  a  model  is 
suggested  by  the  lines  inscribed  to  "  Tera,"  it  is  rather  the  gay,  airy 
rhapsodies  of  Herrick  and  Suckling. 

Beside  this,  let  us  place  together  some  stanzas  taken  at  random 
from  the  new  and  singularly  effective  treatment  of  a  familiar  myth. 

[  Continued  on  Third  Cover  rage.] 

*  Publikhkks'  Notk.— Now  ibsuecl  under  tho  title  of  "Poems,"  by  W.  T.  WuBh- 
buru,  Vol.  I. 


AVERY 

ouasr 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY: 

J±  STORY  CXF1  ISTIETVV  YORK, 


CHAPTER  I. 

GLEASON. 

Judge  Thorxe  was  seated  in  the  drawing-room  of  his  mansion 
on  Madison  avenue.  The  room  was  furnished  with  the  lavish  ele- 
gance which  marks  our  American  taste.  Beside  the  Judge  sat  his 
wife,  and  opposite  them  a  girl  of  eighteen,  reading. 

"It  is  getting  late,"  said  the  Judge,  presently.  "  Rhoda,  you 
must  shut  your  book.  You  were  at  the  ball  last  night.  You  must 
be  careful  of  your  health.  What  wTould  become  of  us  if  you  were 
taken  sick  ?  " 

The  girl  rose,  ran  to  her  father,  gave  him  a  kiss,  and  followed 
him  as  he  closed  the  shutters. 

"  What  a  weird  night! "  she  said,  looking  out  into  the  thick  mist. 
"  See  that  man  walking  past  the  house  ;  he  looks  like  a  giant." 

"It  is  the  policeman,"  said  the  Judge;  and  giving  his  daughter 
another  kiss,  followed  the  two  ladies  from  the  room. 

Could  the  Judge  have  heard  the  conversation  that  was  taking 
place  in  the  basement  below,  his  smile  would  have  been  less  placid. 

"  Curse  the  old  man's  impudence  ;  there's  no  getting  thro'  these 
bars,"  whispered  a  man  to  two  comrades. 

"  Hush!  "  replied  the  second ;  "the  bars  will  soon  be  wide  enough 
for  you." 

"For  me,  yes;  that  comes  from  being  thin.  I  always  have 
to  go  first.  Would  to  God  I  were  fatter.  A  thin  thief  is  a  martyr. 
You're  sure  everything  is  all  right?  The  glass  made  no  noise. 
Press  back  the  catch.    There  are  no  fire-alarms  in  the  house  ?  " 

"We  searched  it  two  days  ago,"  replied  the  man  who  had  spoken 
first,  and  who  was  evidently  the  leader  of  the  party. 


4 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


The  window  was  now  opened,  and  the  second  speaker,  pressing 
between  the  bars,  passed  into  the  basement  of  the  Judge's  house. 

"  I'll  follow  Alibi,"  whispered  one  of  the  two  remaining  men, 
wjio  seemed  much  younger  than  the  others. 

"Stay  where  you  are,  Ishmael,"  returned  the  latter;  "he  will 
open  the  door  in  a  few  minutes." 

As  he  spoke  a  shadowy  tread  crept  along  the  entry  within,  a  key 
slowly  turned,  a  bolt  was  drawn  back,  the  door  opened  softly,  and 
the  two  men  passed  into  the  house. 

The  night  was,  indeed,  the  friend  of  the  burglars.  All  the  win- 
ter's snow  seemed  to  have  turned  into  a  shroud. 

The  thin  man  who  had  opened  the  door  yielded  his  place  to  his 
leader. 

"  How  many  are  there  in  the  house,  Gleason  ?  "  he  asked. 

"You  fool,  why  do  you  speak  my  name  ?  "  whispered  the  man 
who  had  been  thus  addressed.  "  There  are  only  the  old  man, 
two  women  and  the  servants.    No  one  sleeps  below  the  third  story." 

"  They  don't  pack  them  so  close  as  in  Avenue  A,"  said  the  thin 
burglar,  who  was  evidently  a  man  of  reflection. 

They  remained  quiet  half  an  hour  or  more,  listening  to  assure 
themselves  that  no  one  was  stirring. 

"The  safe  is  in  the  library,"  said  Gleason.  As  he  spoke  he  cau- 
tiously led  the  way  along  the  basement  hall,  up  the  stairs  into  the 
parlor. 

"  You  locked  and  bolted  the  basement  door?  "  said  Gleason. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  other.  "  No  one  can  follow  us,  except  thro' 
the  window-bars,  and  policeman  arc  fat." 

The  three  burglars  thereupon,  with  professional  method,  exam- 
ined whatever  of  rich  and  portable  the  parlor  and  dining-room 
held. 

"The  old  miser  may  keep  his  real  silver  upstairs,"  said  the 
thin  burglar,  lighting  a  match  and  holding  it  carefully  concealed 
between  his  hands,  while  his  younger  companion  broke  some  spoons 
in  two. 

"Plated,  the  swindler  !"  growled  the  man  they  had  called  Glea- 
son. "They  would  not  pay  expenses.  Waste  no  more  time  ;  the 
safe  is  in  the  library.    Edson  gave  me  the  combination." 

The  three  men  glided  into  the  library,  which  was  upon  the  same 
floor.  In  a  few  minutes  Gleason  had  opened  a  small  safe  that  stood 
in  one  corner,  and  three  pairs  of  eyes  were  inquiring  curiously  into 
its  contents. 


THE  VSKNOWX  CITY. 


5 


"Hark!  "  said  Gleason,  placing  his  hand  on  his  breast  with  un- 
conscious caution. 

"  Hark!  "  he  again  whispered,  as  the  thud  of  a  club  striking  the 
sidewalk  was  audible  ;  "  some  one  has  betrayed  us." 

He  stole  to  a  front  window,  cautiously  opened  a  crack  in  the 
shutter,  and  peeped  out.  Two  dim  figures  were  standing  in  front  of 
the  house,  evidently  reconnoitering  and  waiting  for  reinforcements. 
Judge  Thome's  house  stood  on  a  corner  of  the  street,  and  Gleason 
ran  rapidly  from  the  front  to  a  side  window,  and  peeped  from  the 
shutters. 

"  Caught!  "  he  muttered,  with  an  oath.    "  Edson  must  have  be- 
trayed us.    The  basement  door  is  bolted ! " 
"  Yes,"  replied  his  companion. 

"The  bravest  way  is  the  safest,"  said  Gleason;  "we  have  but 
one  chance." 

So  saying,  with  a  whisper  and  motion  to  his  comrades,  he  ran  to 
the  gas  fixtures  at  the  sides  of  the  parlor,  and  wrenched  them  off. 
His  comrades  at  the  same  time  turned  on  the  gas  of  the  main 
chandeliers.  Gleason  then  drew  a  match  from  his  pocket,  lighted  it, 
and  touched  it  to  the  lace  curtains  of  one  of  the  front  windows. 

In  a  moment  the  room  was  in  a  blaze.  The  light  showed  the 
faces  of  the  burglars;  one  of  a  strong,  stern  expression,  a  large  chin, 
massive  forehead',  and  a  piercing  and  steady  eye;  the  second,  a  thin, 
sallow  face,  with  an  eager  and  restless  glance;  the  third,  who  seemed 
scarcely  more  than  twenty,  had  the  reckless  look  of  a  generous  but 
abandoned  girl.  It  was  noticeable  that  all  three  wore  the  uniform 
of  firemen. 

As  the  fire  circled  the  room,  Gleason  ran  up  the  staircase,  fol- 
lowed by  his  two  friends. 

Until  this  moment  everything  had  been  as  silent  as  the  unseen  step 
of  the  pestilence.    All  at  once  arose  a  terrific  outcry. 

"Fire!  fire!"  called  the  watchmen,  beating  the  ground  with 
their  clubs. 

"Fire!  fire!"  screamed  the  inmates  of  the  surrounding  houses. 
"  Fire! "  clanged  the  bells. 

"Fire!"  shrilled  the  voices  of  the  Judge's  servants,  who  had 
wisely  clambered  upon  the  roof. 

A  few  minutes  later  engines  were  clattering  over  the  streets,  and 
soon  firemen  were  battering  at  the  doors  with  their  axes,  and  dealing 
each  other  vigorous  blows  for  the  honor  of  their  companies. 

Three  men  alone  listened  with  silent  pleasure  to  the  growing 


6 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


tumult.   Liberty  is  sweet,  even  when  clouded  by  the  chance  of 

being  burned  alive. 

'*  Stop!  "  cried  Gleason  to  Judge  Thorne,  who  was  running  down 
the  stairs.    "  You  can't  go  down.    To-the  roof ! " 

The  fire  by  this  time  was  creeping  up  the  stairways.  The  Judge 
hastily  returned,  followed  by  the  three  burglars. 

On  reaching  the  top  of  the  second  staircase,  they  saw  that  the 
fire  had  spread  more  rapidly  up  the  back  stairway  than  the  front. 

Its  forked  tongue  was  already  darting  across  the  entry. 

"My  child !  my  child ! "  cried  the  Judge,  as  the  back  chamber  door 
opened,  and  a  woman's  white  dress  appeared  beyond  the  flames. 

The  girl's  modesty  had  been  fatal  to  her  hope  of  safety.  To 
remain  was  death  ;  to  advance  was  but  a  swifter  destruction  ;  she 
knelt  down  and  lifted  her  hands  to  heaven. 

As  she  did  so,  the  youngest  burglar  tore  off  his  coat,  watched  the 
flame  as  it  ebbed  a  moment,  then  sprang  across  it,  threw  the  woolen 
shield  around  the  girl,  and  bore  her  to  her  father. 

Mrs.  Thorne  was  upon  the  story  above  ;  they  hastened  up  the 
stairs,  and  were  soon  all  in  safety  upon  the  roof. 

As  they  issued  from  the  skylight,  three  or  four  firemen  appeared 
upon  a  neighboring  roof  ;  these  were  joined  by  others,  and  soon 
a  hose  was  dragged  over  the  eaves  and  playing  upon  the  flames. 

The  strange  party  passed  on  to  a  skylight  of  the  fourth  house. 

"This  is  Godkin's  house,"  said  Mr.  Thorne  to  his  wife,  who  had 
crept  on,  half  fainting,  through  the  shivering  mist. 

The  skylight  was  locked,  but  a  fireman  who  had  joined  them 
forced  it  open,  and  the  six  persons  descended. 

The  joy  of  the  three  of  the  party  to  whom  this  adventure  had 
been  most  unexpected  at  finding  themselves  in  safety,  found  vent  in 
mutual  embraces  and  congratulations. 

"  My  child,  how  you  are  dressed!  "  cried  the  girl's  mother,  and 
she  looked  at  the  man's  jacket  thrown  over  the  abridged  costume 
that  Miss  Thome's  fright  had  donned. 

"  How  did  you  escape,  Judge?"  "I'm  so  glad  you  are  safe." 
"Thank  God,  my  child!"  "Is  there  any  danger  ? "  "Shall  I 
scream?"  "How  terrible!"  were  the  remarks  with  which  their 
friends  greeted  them  as  they  descended. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  second  story,  Mrs.  Godkin,  the  lady  of 
the  house,  took  the  two  fugitive  women  into  her  room,  and  the 
Judge  retired  with  his  friend,  to  secure  the  luxury  of  a  pair  of 
shoes,  and  other  evidences  of  an  exigent  civilization. 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


7 


The  three  burglars  cautiously  continued  their  way  to  the  door. 
A  loud  knocking,  ringing  and  shouting  showed  that  this  house  had 
entered  the  range  of  the  firemen's  operations.  As  the  door  opened, 
a  number  of  firemen  entered.  The  burglars  kept  in  the  shadow. 
Gleason  was  on  the  point  of  slipping  from  the  door,  when  two 
policemen  ran  up  the  steps. 

"Let  no  one  leave  the  house,"  said  one  to  the  othei,  and  him- 
self went  into  the  parlor. 

"Let  me  pass,"  said  Gleason,  coming  up  boldly  to  the  watch- 
man. 

"  Who  are  you?"  asked  the  latter. 
"A  fireman,"  said  Gleason. 
"  Stay  where  you  are." 
"  Let  me  pass." 

As  he  spoke,  the  officer  heard  the  click  of  three  pistols.  He  was 
a  brave  man;  quick  as  a  flash  he  drew  his  pistol,  and  fired  it  at  Glea- 
son's  breast.  As  he  did  so,  three  shots  followed,  and  he  himself  fell 
dead. 

"  Fly!  "  cried  Gleason.  "  It  is  all  up  with  me;  fly!"  he  repeated, 
as  the  younger  burglar  hesitated  to  leave  him,  "  fly !  "  and  the  young 
man  stepped  over  the  dead  policeman,  and  was  lost  in  the  crowd 
that  was  surging  about  the  fire. 

In  the  excitement  no  one  had  heeded  the  shots,  and  some  mo- 
ments elapsed  before  the  dead  and  the  dying  man  were  discovered. 
They  were  taken  at  once  into  the  parlor  and  laid  upon  the  floor. 
Several  policemen,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Godkin,  and  other  gentlemen 
gathered  around  them. 

"  Give  the  man  an  opiate,  Dr.  Talcot,"  said  the  Rev.  Dr.  Godkin 
to  a  physician,  who  had  just  arrived. 

"  For  God's  sake,  give  me  something,  doctor;  I  suffer,"  whispered 
the  burglar. 

"Stop!"  said  a  police  captain,  forcing  back  the  physician  and 
bending  over  the  agonized  face  of  the  thief.  "  Tell  me  first  the 
names  of  your  confederates." 

"  Tell  the  officer  who  your  companions  were,"  urged  the  doctor, 
"  and  I  will  ease  your  pain." 

"  I  was  alone,"  answered  the  man,  by  a  strong  effort  concealing 
all  expression  of  suffering. 

Dr.  Godkin,  the  clergyman,  drew  near  him. 

"Tell  the  captain  who  your  friends  were,"  he  said  in  a  kindly 
tone;  "make  your  peace  with  God;  do  your  duty;  they  will  give 
you  something  to  relieve  you." 


8 


THE  UtfKKOWtf  CITY. 


A  scornful  smile  played  around  the  lips  of  the  dying  man ;  he 
turned  his  eye  from  the  policeman  to  the  rector,  to  the  physician. 

"You  torture  a  dying  man  to  make  him  betray  his  friends;  I 
will  tell  you  my  confederates; "  he  turned  himself  upon  his  side;  bit- 
ter memories  seemed  to  make  the  pain  less. 

"Send  for  Judge  Thorne,"  he  said;  "I  have  something  to  say 
that  will  interest  him." 

The  Judge  entered  the  room  as  he  spoke. 

"Judge  Thorne,"  he  said,  turning  on  him  an  eye  that  shot  forth 
sparks  of  fire  under  the  shadow  of  death;  "Judge  Thorne,  do  you 
know  me?" 

"  I  never  saw  you  before." 

Again  a  scornful  smile  played  over  the  burglar's  face. 

"  The  foot  does  not  remember  the  worm,"  he  said;  "  I  am  dying, 
I  will  make  my  confession."  The  rector,  the  judge  and  the  officer 
bent  over  the  lips  of  the  speaker,  each  with  a  different  expression  of 
interest. 

"Twenty  years  ago,"  he  began,  "I  was  a  dry  goods  merchant; 
I  had  a  wife  whom  I  loved,  a  daughter  whom  I  worshipped.  One 
day  I  saved  the  life  of  a  child  who  was  playing  upon  the  railroad. 
I  was  struck  by  the  engine,  and  for  some  months  disabled.  I  had 
purchased  some  goods  of  a  kind  which  a  merchant  prince  wished  to 
monopolize.  During  my  sickness  he  marked  down  the  price  of  sim- 
ilar goods  to  half  their  cost.  I  was  forced  to  sell  my  goods  for  what 
they  would  bring.  My  business  was  ruined.  There  was  a  mortgage 
on  my  house.  I  was  unable  to  pay  the  interest;  it  was  foreclosed.  I 
asked  my  debtor  where  we  were  to  live.  '  Go  and  live  in  the  sea,' 
he  answered.  I  begged  the  railroad  directors  to  pay  me  something 
for  my  injury;  they  referred  me  to  their  lawyer.  I  rose  from  my  bed 
a  bankrupt.  That  was  nothing.  I  was  still  free.  One  day  my  wife 
told  me  that  a  man  had  insulted  her.  The  man  was  a  politician  of 
note.  I  laid  for  him  and  horsewhipped  him.  A  week  later  I  was 
arrested,  charged  with  committing  a  robbery.  My  wife  swore  that  I 
was  at  home  that  evening,  but  of  what  weight  were  the  oaths  of  an 
accused  man  and  his  wife  ?  Policemen  and  detectives  swore  to 
having  seen  me.  You,  Judge  Thorne,  tried  me,  and  sentenced  me  to 
three  years'  imprisonment;  do  you  wish  to  know  my  confederates  ?  " 
And  the  burglar  gave  four  of  the  most  respected  names  in  the  city. 
The  police  captain  instinctively  raised  his  club. 

"You  coward  1"  cried  a  young  man  who  was  standing  among 
the  crowd. 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


9 


The  burglar  smiled.  "  When  I  came  from  prison,"  he  said,  "my 
wife  was  dead,  my  daughter — I  hope  she  too  is  dead — she  had  van- 
ished into  the  night." 

"My  confederates  are  all  dead,  too,"  he  continued.  "We  made 
drinking  cups  of  their  skulls.  It  was  a  poor  revenge.  Judge 
Thorne,  you  had  four  sons.    Your  youngest  son,  where  is  he  ?  " 

"My  son  !  do  you  know  where  he  is  ?  My  son  !  I  entreat  you 
tell  me."   An  expression  of  agony  came  over  his  face. 

"  Give  the  Judge  an  opiate,"  said  the  burglar;  "he  is  not  used 
to  pain.  Your  son  ?  Restore  to  me  my  daughter— I  will  give  you 
your  son." 

"  You  stole  my  son.  Tell  me,  for  the  love  of  God,  where  is  he? " 
asked  the  Judge,  with  a  bloodless  face. 

"I  think  we  killed  him — but  the  matter  has  slipped  my  memory," 
answered  the  burglar. 

"You  dirty  villain! "  cried  a  servant  girl  of  Judge  Thorne,  ad- 
vancing and  shaking  her  fist  in  the  burglar's  face,  "there's  no  place 
bad  enough  for  you.  Here  comes  the  praste,"  and  she  fell  back 
frightened  as  a  young  priest  pressed  with  an  air  of  authority 
through  the  crowd. 

The  holy  father  drew  near,  and  waving  back  the  bystanders,  spoke 
a  few  words  to  the  burglar.  The  latter  raised  his  eyes  with  an  ex- 
pression of  kindness.  The  priest  administered  the  last  rites  of  his 
religion. 

"  I  absolve  you  from  your  sins,"  he  said  solemnly. 

The  burglar  looked  at  the  Judge,  who  had  not  ceased  to  plead 
for  some  knowledge  of  his  son.  An  expression  of  humor,  mixed 
with  hatred,  came  over  his  face. 

"When  I  die  again,"  he  said,  "you  had  better  give  me  an 
opiate." 

He  was  deadl 


10 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


CHAPTER  II. 

JOAN  MICHEL. 

A  winter's  sunset  was  coldly  gilding  the  shanties  which  sat 
perched  upon  the  rocks  just  south  of  Central  Park;  one  of  these 
shanties,  which  seemed  to  shun  the  light,  was  built  in  a  small  hol- 
low, with  its  back  against  a  rock;  two  or  three  goats  were  playing  in 
front  of  the  door,  and  some  hens  nestling  in  the  dirt  on  the  sunny 
side  of  the  wail  opposite;  in  the  middle  of  the  pathway  a  dead  rat 
threw  all  the  surrounding  harmonies  into  a  minor  key. 

Within  this  shanty  lay  the  body  of  the  burglar  who  had  been 
killed  the  previous  night;  around  it  were  gathered  the  few  persons 
whom  friendship  and  interest  had  summoned;  the  retiring  disposi- 
tion of  most  of  the  thief's  friends  prevented  their  appearance;  in  a 
corner  was  a  ragged  little  child,  playing  with  three  bricks. 

"It  is  time  for  you  to  go  home,  Bug,"  said  a  woman,  approach- 
ing the  child. 

"I  don't  want  to  go  home,  mother  will  beat  me,"  said  the  little 
thing,  as  she  rose  and  put  away  her  playthings. 

The  woman  turned  back  and  sat  down  by  the  coffin. 

"  Would  that  I  had  been  with  him  when  he  died,"  she  said,  in  a 
metallic  voice,  addressing  a  young  man  who  was  standing  looking  at 
the  face  of  the  burglar. 

"He  died  in  great  pain;  they  tried  to  make  him  betray  his 
friends,  and  would  not  relieve  it." 

The  young  man,  the  latter  speaker,  was  a  person  of  medium 
height,  dressed  like  a  priest;  his  figure  was  lithe,  and  to  a  practiced 
eye  gave  promise  of  possessing  no  little  strength;  his  face  was  made 
striking,  by  the  fierce  and  restless  hunger  of  his  dark  eyes. 

The  woman  herself  wTas  of  large  stature,  with  a  face  whose 
traces  of  early  beauty  were  overlaid  by  the  masculine  and  repellant 
expression  which  her  hard  life  had  engendered;  her  hair  was  light, 
and  gathered  behind  her  head  in  thick  folds;  these  were  fastened  by 
a  small  dagger,  whose  tarnished  gilt  handle  furnished  the  only  pre- 
tense to  ornament  in  her  not  untidy  dress.  Though  evidently 
the  chief  mourner  of  the  deceased,  tears  and  all  gentle  expression 
of  sorrow  seemed  forbidden  her;  in  her  face  appeared  rather 
the  stern  respect  which  a  soldier  pauses  in  retreat  to  bestow 
upon  a  dead  comrade;  she  knew  well,  that  to  her,  as  to  her  friend, 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


11 


life  was  a  hopeless  warfare,  in  which  disgrace  is  the  reward  of  the 
bravest  and  the  only  hope  of  peace  is  death. 

Besides  the  woman  and  the  priest,  there  were  four  gentlemen 
present:  Judge  Thorne,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Godkin,  the  physician  who 
had  attended  Gleason  at  his  death,  and  a  young  man  who  bore  some 
slight  resemblance  in  face  and  figure  to  the  priest. 

"My  good  woman,"  said  Judge  Thorne,  approaching  her,  "you 
have  a  secret  which  interests  me  deeply." 

"  Who  are  you?"  asked  the  woman  bluntly. 

"My  name  is  Judge  Thorne." 

"I  know  you,"  she  replied;  "you  once  did  me  a  kindness;  you 
have  come  to  the  funeral  of  your  brother." 

"Madam!  "  returned  the  Judge,  "what  do  you  mean?  " 

"Are  not  you  a  lawyer  and  a  thief?  "  replied  the  woman,  with 
an  attempt  at  cordiality.    "  You  are  welcome." 

"Do  not  get  angry,"  whispered  the  rector,  not  wholly  displeased 
at  the  Judge's  discomfiture;  "  remember  your  object." 

"My  good  woman,"  he  added,  pressing  the  Judge  aside,  "would 
you  net  like  some  funeral  service  performed  over  the  departed?  " 

"  Who  are  you?  "  asked  the  woman,  turning  to  the  rector. 

"I  am  a  clergyman,"  he  answered  blandly. 

"Ah,"  said  the  woman,  "you  have  come  to  the  funeral  of 
your  brother.    You  are  welcome." 

"What!"  returned  Dr.  Godkin,  forgetting  his  decorum,  and 
closing  the  fingers  of  his  right  hand. 

"Are  you  not  also  a  thief?"  she  answered,  with  a  hospitable 
smile,  and  then  turned  to  the  physician,  who,  with  a  look  of  satisfac- 
tion at  his  friend's  confusion,  had  advanced  to  where  the  burglar's 
body  rested,  and,  with  an  analytic  eye,  was  examining  its  fine  pro- 
portions. 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  will  give  you  a  hundred  dollars  for  your  husband's  body,"  he 
said. 

The  woman  burst  into  a  harsh  laugh. 

"You  are  the  best  of  the  thieves,"  she  said.  "  You  come  to  us 
for  your  knowledge.  You  may  have  my  body  for  nothing  when  I 
die,  but  I  will  not  sell  my  friends.  And  pray,  what  is  your  busi- 
ness? "  she  asked,  turning  to  her  fourth  guest. 

"I  am  a  reporter,  or,  in  the  language  of  aspiration,  a  sketch 
artist." 

"  Ahl "  she  replied,  "  a  scavenger." 


12 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


The  young  man  smiled.  Flattery,  it  was  clear,  made  but  slight 
impression  upon  him. 

"  I  always  told' him,"  she  said,  sadly  glancing  towards  the  table 
on  which  the  coffin  lay,  "  I  always  told  him  how  it  would  end.  But 
he  was  a  gentleman,  and  said  the  world  owed  him  a  living.  He  had 
3Tour  class  prejudices.  But  what  right  had  he,  or  what  right  have 
you,  to  live  without  work?  Yet  he  was  better  than  you.  He  was  a 
thief,  but  no  hypocrite." 

"There  are  various  kinds  of  work,  my  good  woman,"  said  the 
rector,  soothingly. 

"  And  who  gave  him  or  you  the  right  to  choose  the  easy  work, 
and  to  double  the  hard  work  of  your  neighbor?" 

"  The  law,"  said  the  Judge. 

"And  do  the  workmen,  whose  work  is  doubled  by  the  idlers, 
make  the  law?  "  asked  the  woman. 

"Well,  who  does  make  the  law?"  asked  the  doctor  and  re- 
porter, anxious  to  get  at  the  facts. 

"  God,"  said  the  Judge,  reverently. 

"  The  devil,"  muttered  the  rector,  in  whom  the  law  seemed  to 
provoke  a  certain  degree  of  antagonism. 

"  The  thief,"  said  the  woman.  "  The  thief  first  steals  enough  to 
live  on:  then  at  his  leisure  he  makes  a  law  that  what  he  has  stolen  is 
his  own.  Do  you  wish  to  hear  the  story  of  my  life?  I  will  tell  it  in 
justice  to  my  friend;  there  are  few  enough  who  will  speak  a  good 
word  for  him. 

"My  name  is  Joan  Michel.  I  am  the  daughter  of  a  priest."  Dr. 
Godkin  gave  a  shudder.  "  A  few  months  after  I  was  born  my  mother 
died  of  shame:  my  father  was  made  a  bishop.  We  were  Normans. 
I  was  brought  up  by  my  aunt,  the  widow  of  a  rich  peasant  without 
children.  I  was  naturally  a  wild  girl,  and  had  but  few  restraints. 
I  loved  liberty  and  nature,  and  spent  day  after  day  wandering 
beside  the  sea.  When  I  first  heard  the  Marseillaise  it  threw  me  into 
a  fever. 

"Little  by  little  I  learned  my  mother's  story:  that  gave  me  a 
hatred  of  my  country.  I  cursed  the  priest  and  the  tyrant.  I  de- 
spised their  slaves. 

"  By  and  by  I  heard  of  a  new  world  where  rich  and  poor  had 
equal  rights;  where  no  man  stole  the  fruit  of  his  brother's  toil  nor 
made  woman's  love  bear  the  burden  of  his  lust.  I  yearned  to  go  to 
it,  and  as  soon  as  my  aunt  died  I  took  ship  for  New  York. 

"An  uncle  of  mine  was  living  here,  and  when  I  arrived,  he  met 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


13 


me  with  his  wife  and  his  two  children,  and  took  me  to  their 
house. 

"  Two  months  later  a  notary  sent  me  a  draft  for  three  thousand 
dollars,  the  amount  of  the  property  left  by  my  aunt,  who  had  made 
me  her  sole  heir.  I  told  my  uncle  of  the  draft,  and  he  begged  me 
to  lend  him  the  money.  I  told  him  that  I  was  going  to  buy  a  farm, 
and  could  not  do  it.    He  frowned,  but  made  no  answer. 

"  The  two  following  days  he  repeated  his  request,  and  was  re- 
fused. The  third  evening,  as  I  was  leaving  the  house  to  take  a  walk, 
my  aunt  remarked  to  me  that  it  was  chilly,  and  kindly  begged  me 
to  wear  her  shawl. 

"  On  my  return  home  I  found  a  policeman  standing  at  the  door. 

"  '  I  have  come  to  arrest  }'ou,'  he  said  to  me. 

"  I  began  to  cry.    '  What  does  it  all  mean? '  I  asked  my  aunt. 

'"He  arrests  you  for  stealing  that  shawl,'  she  replied. 

"  ' But  you  lent  it  to  me.' 

"'My  poor  child,'  returned  my  aunt,  'you  see  to  what  your 
obstinacy  brings  you.  We  are  powerless  to  help  you  unless  you  let 
my  husband  have  the  money  you  received.' 

"  'You  are  a  thief,'  I  cried,  angrily. 

"  She  made  no  reply,  but  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  I  was  car- 
ried to  the  Tombs  and  locked  in  a  cell. 

"  The  next  day  a  law}rer  who  spoke  French  visited  me.  He  told 
me  that  my  arrest  was  an  outrage  to  which  no  one  who  had  money 
should  submit.  Then  he  inquired  how  much  money  I  had.  I  had 
grown  suspicious,  and  replied  none  at  all.  'Let  me  see  the  judge. 
I  will  tell  him  how  it  is.' 

"  '  It  is  impossible  to  see  the  judge  without  money,'  he  said; 
'but  give  me  your  draft  for  three  thousand  dollars  and  I  will  ar- 
range the  matter  for  you.' 

"  Again  I  told  him  I  had  no  money.  At  this  he  told  me  that  I 
belonged  to  the  class  of  hardened  criminals,  and  that  there  was  no 
hope  for  me. 

"  A  few  days  later  the  warden  came  to  see  me. 

"  '  I  am  innocent,'  I  said.  '  Let  me  talk  to  the  judge.  It  is  all  a 
mistake.' 

' '  He  listened  to  me,  but  made  no  answer.  Shortly  afterward  came 
a  young  man  who  said  that  he  was  an  assistant  in  the  District  Attor- 
ney's office.    He  asked  me  many  questions,  and  seemed  very  kind. 

'"I  think  you  are  innocent,'  he  said  at  length. 

"  I  cried  with  joy. 


14 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


"  '  Then  they  will  let  me  out.  God  bless  you  ! — God  bless  you  !' 
We  can't  do  that,'  he  replied.  'The  law  compels  us  to  try 
you.  You  will  have  your  aunt,  your  uncle,  and  your  cousins  to 
swear  to  your  guilt.  You  have  only  your  own  oath  against  four. 
Can  you  not  show  that  their  characters  are  bad— that  they  are  un- 
worthy to  be  believed  on  oath  ?' 

"'I  know  no  one  in  America  except  my  uncle's  family  and  their 
friends,'  I  replied.  'How  can  I  show  that  they  are  common  liars  ? 
They  make  money  by  lying.    They  do  not  throw  it  away,' 

"  '  Let  me  think  what  will  be  best  for  your  interest,'  he  replied. 
'  If  you  defend  yourself  the  lawyers  will  steal  all  your  money,  and 
your  sentence  will  be  more  severe.  There  are  four  oaths  against 
one.  Unless  impeached  Ave  have  to  count  oaths,  we  cannot  weigh 
them.  If  you  plead  guilty  we  will  see  that  the  judge  awards  you 
the  lightest  sentence  possible.  It  will  only  be  a  few  weeks  on  the 
Island  ;  then  you  will  be  free  and  have  all  your  money.' 

"  He  rose,  shook  me  kindly  by  the  hand,  and  left  me. 

"  The  only  friendly  voice  I  had  heard  since  my  arrest  advised  me 
to  confess  myself  a  thief. 

"  They  tried  me.    You,  Judge  Thorne,  were  the  judge. 

"  I  am  not  guilty.  I  borrowed  the  shawl.  That  was  all  I  had 
to  say.  They  all  swore  against  me.  I  was  convicted.  Your  kind- 
ness, Judge  Thorne,  sentenced  me  to  a  month's  imprisonment  upon 
the  Island. 

'  •  I  kept  up  my  heart  as  well  as  I  could.  When  I  was  released  I 
bought  a  farm  in  New  Jersey  by  the  sea -shore. 

"  One  day,  when  I  had  come  to  the  city  to  sell  my  truck,  my 
uncle  met  and  recognized  me.  I  tried  to  avoid  him,  but  he  must 
have  watched  me,  and  tracked  me  home. 

"Presently,  one  by  one,  my  neighbors  grew  cold;  they  turned 
aside  their  heads  or  crossed  the  street  when  they  saw  me  approach- 
ing.   At  length  none  of  them  would  call  upon  or  even  speak  to  me. 

"  I  bore  everything  in  silence  until  their  boy.s  began  to  steal  my 
vegetables  and  chickens.  Then  I  called  upon  their  parents  to  pre- 
vent my  being  rObbed. 

"  '  What  business  has  a  thief  like  you,'  they  cried,  'to  accuse 
honest  folks'  children?  '  and  they  drove  me  from  their  houses. 

"  One  day,  after  I  had  been  in  the  city,  I  found  my  little  garden 
stripped  of  everything.  I  had  no  redress.  I  sold  my  farm  for  half 
what  I  gave  for  it,  and  resolved  to  go  West. 

"  I  came  to  New  York  before  deciding  what  my  new  destination 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


15 


should  be.  Not  wishing  to  spend  my  money,  I  became  a  servant  in 
a  physician's  family.  He  was  very  friendly  to  me,  and  asked  me 
what  I  intended  to  do.  In  an  unlucky  moment  he  divined  from 
something  I  said  that  I  had  some  money. 

"  A  few  days  later,  as  I  was  dusting  his  library,  I  saw  upon  the 
table  two  large  pictures  covered  with  a  piece  of  cloth.  My  curiosity 
would  not  suffer  me  to  leave  the  veil  unlifted,  and  in  a  moment  my 
attention  was  riveted  upon  two  objects  so  revolting  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  tear  myself  away  from  them. 

"  As  I  stood  fascinated  with  horror,  the  doctor  entered  the  room. 
With  a  smile  he  told  me  that  these  were  some  fine  plates  he  had  just 
received  of  persons  afflicted  with  cancer  of  the  eye. 

"  'This  cancer,'  he  said,  'is  at  first  so  small  that  it  can  only  be 
detected  by  the  microscope.  Thousands  of  persons  in  this  city 
who  think  themselves  in  perfect  health,  if  you  apply  this  little  in- 
strument to  their  eyes,  would  learn  that  they  have  planted  in  them 
the  seed  of  such  a  flower.* 

"  Imagine  a  huge  rotten  cabbage  growing  out  of  your  eye.  I 
was  seized  with  a  fatal  desire  to  know  if  I,  too,  were  one  of  these 
unfortunates. 

"  'Doctor,  look  at  my  eyes,'  I  said  to  him.  He  applied  the  mi- 
croscope.   His  hand  trembled — a  tear  fell  on  his  cheek. 

"  '  My  poor  child,  there  is  a  germ  in  each  eye.' 

"  '  Is  there  no  cure?  '  I  cried,  aghast. 

"  '  It  will  cost  you  a  thousand  dollars,'  he  said. 

"  I  gave  him  my  money;  he  gave  me  a  lotion. 

"  A  week  later  I  learned  that  I  had  been  swindled.  I  demanded 
back  my  money.  He  told  me  I  was  a  thief,  and  drove  me  from  the 
house. 

"  Faint  from  anger,  I  wandered  to  the  Park,  and,  seating  myself 
upon  a  bench,  fell  asleep.  \n  my  dreams  I  re-acted  the  scene 
through  which  I  had  just  passed. 

"  '  You  liar!  you  swindler! '  I  cried.  At  these  words  of  mine,  I 
felt  a  rough  grasp  on  my  shoulder,  and  awoke. 

"  '  Ha,'  said  the  voice  of  the  policeman  who  had  before  arrested 
me,  '  drunk? '  and  he  dragged  me  to  the  police  court. 

'  I've  arrested  this  woman  for  drunkenness  and  disorderly  con- 
duct, your  Honor,'  he  said  to  the  judge. 

"  'What  have  you  to  say?'  asked  the  latter  of  me. 

'"Iam  not  guilty,'  I  replied. 

"  '  She  is  an  old  offender,  just  off  the  Island,'  said  the  policeman, 
carelessly. 


16 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


"Without  another  word,  I  was;  again  sentenced  to  thirty  days'  im- 
prisonment. This  injustice  nearly  deprived  me  of  my  reason.  I 
cursed  the  New  World  as  I  had  cursed  the  Old.  This  boasted  asylum 
of  liberty  is  a  den  not  of  thieves  but  wolves.  When  I  was  dis- 
charged, I  was  penniless,  and  in  despair.  The  earth,  I  said,  breeds 
nothing  but  sheep  and  vipers;  there  is  but  one  thing  in  the  world 
that  is  pure  and  divine — the  ocean.  I  will  lake  a  boat,  and  sailing 
far  away,  die  in  the  arms  of  my  lover.  I  walked  to  the  river  side  to 
carry  out  my  purpose.  It  was  dusk,  and  as  I  drew  near  the  de- 
serted wharf,  a  man  seized  me  by  the  arm. 

"  'What  do  you  want?  '  I  asked,  turning  fiercely  upon  him. 

"  'Your  purse,'  he  answered,  dropping  his  hand. 

"  '  Come  with  me,'  1  said,  '  I  will  give  you  everything  I  have.  I 
should  like  to  kill  a  man  before  I  die.' 

"  The  man  laughed.  '  She  is  game,'  he  said,  turning  to  his  com- 
panion. 'You  are  too  young  and  pretty  to  die.  Take  this,'  and 
thrusting  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  he  drew  out  some  money. 

"  This  was  the  first  kind  action  that  had  been  shown  me  since  I  had 
come  here.  It  caused  me  to  break  my  resolution.  I  loved  this  man. 
I  tried  to  persuade  him  to  work,  but  he  wanted  to  be  a  gentleman 
like  you  all,  but  at  least  he  was  an  honest  thief :  he  made  no  pretense. 
All  men  who  live  without  labor  are  thieves.  I  wonder  why  people 
make  such  distinctions  between  them." 

"  My  good  woman,"  said  the  rector,  in  a  voice  which  tried  to 
conceal  his  irritation  at  the  length  and  moral  of  her  story,  "your 
husband,  before  he  died,  said  that  he  wished  that  you  would  tell  us 
what  you  know  about  the  little  boy  that,  many  years  ago,  was  car- 
ried away  from  Judge  Thome's  doorstep." 

The  woman's  face  showed  no  trace  of  emotion.  "If  I  told  you 
anything,"  she  said,  "you  would  have  me  arrested.  I  have  noth- 
ing to  tell." 

"Nothing  shall  be  done  to  you,"  said  the  Judge,  earnestly. 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  said  the  woman.  "When  I  first 
knew  Gleason,  he  had  a  small  boy  with  him.  He  said  'twas  his 
nephew.  The  child  took  sick  and  died.  Most  children  in  New 
York  are  lucky  enough  to  die  3roung." 

"  The  man  said  he  killed  it,"  said  the  Judge. 

"  He  was  joking,"  said  the  woman,  pleasantly.  "John  wouid 
not  harm  a  fly,  except  in  the  way  of  his  profession.  Call  here  again 
to-morrow.    I  will  learn  what  I  can  about  it. " 

She  turned  her  back  upon  them.  The  rector  and  the  Judge  re- 
luctantly took  their  leave. 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


ir 


"Madam,"  said  the  doctor,  coming  forward,  "will  you  take 
my  offer  for  the  body?  " 

"You  have  to  come  to  the  thief  to  learn  the  truth,"  said  the 
woman,  turning  upon  him.  "  It  will  be  a  long  time  before  one  of 
you  butchers  offers  his  own  body  to  advance  his  science." 

"  I  have  left  mine  for  that  purpose  by  my  will,"  answered  the 
doctor. 

The  woman  looked  at  him  with  a  more  kindly  eye. 

"  You  look  something  like  a  man,"  she  said.  "  You  are  better 
than  the  others — but  not  his  ;  you  may  have  mine  for  nothing, 
soon." 

The  doctor  turned  and  hastened  from  the  shanty  to  rejoin  his 
friends.  He  had  been  gone  but  a  few  minutes  when  the  priest  ut- 
tered an  exclamation,  and  sprang  toward  the  window. 

"It  is  covered,"  he  whispered,  and  running  to  the  chimney, 
clambered  up  it. 

"  Do  not  betray  him,"  said  the  woman  in  a  tone  of  entreaty,  to 
the  reporter,  who  was  now  left  alone  with  her. 

As  she  spoke,  the  door  was  flung  open  and  three  policemen  en- 
tered the  room.  They  looked  first  at  one  and  then  at  the  other 
of  its  inmates. 

"  The  description  corresponds,"  said  one  of  them,  approaching 
the  reporter. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  he  asked  sternly. 

"  None  of  your  business,"  replied  that  gentleman,  more  accus- 
tomed to  ask  than  to  answer  questions. 

The  woman  looked  on  with  suppressed  emotion. 

"  Arrest  him,"  said  the  leader  of  the  posse.  "  I  remember  your 
face,  you  rascal;  it  was  you  who  insulted  me  last  night;"  and  he 
brandished  his  club  over  the  reporter's  head,  while  a  subordinate  fas- 
tened handcuffs  upon  his  wrists. 

As  they  were  leading  him  away,  he  turned  to  the  woman. 
"  The  scavenger  salutes  you,  madam,"  he  said,  bowing  pleasantly  to 
her. 

"  May  God  bless  you!  "  she  replied. 


18 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


CHAPTER  m. 

THE  FIRST  INNOCENT. 

The  young  reporter  was  conducted  rapidly  to  the  side  door  of 
that  huge  Doric  temple,  the  Tombs.  The  iron  gate  of  a  small  com- 
partment on  the  right  was  opened,  and  the  reporter  and  an  officer 
passed  through  it. 

"  Who  is  this?"  cried  a  savage  voice  from  a  dark  corner  of  the 
room. 

The  reporter  turned  to  the  voice,  whose  severity  showed  it  to 
belong  to  a  man  of  consequence. 

"I  have  been  arrested  by  mistake,"  he  said  ;  "  I  am  a  member 
of  the  press.    If  you  detain  me  longer,  you  will  suffer  for  it." 

"  Ha  !  "  cried  the  voice,  "  another  innocent  !  This  is  too  much 
for  one  day;  "  and  the  speaker  came  into  the  light. 

The  reporter  looked  curiously  at  the  new  face,  which  was 
not  unworthy  a  moment's  study.  It  was  a  face  which,  had  man- 
kind been  descended  from  the  elephant,  would  have  stood  high  on  the 
roll  of  beauty.  But  to  the  snob-nosed  ideal  of  our  generation, 
nothing  could  appear  more  homely.  All  that  the  most  jealous  hus- 
band desires  in  the  friends  of  his  wife — all  that  the  frailest  woman 
could  wish  to  aid  her  prayers  against  temptation — this  face  would 
have  abundantly  supplied.  Had  Trojan  Paris  been  its  lucky  pos- 
sessor, it  would  have  protected  him  better  than  a  thousand  Hectors. 
It  was  a  face  to  keep  prisons  tranquil,  for  the  most  savage  prisoner, 
as  he  looked  upon  it,  said,  "  I  am  revenged!  " 

"  Mr.  Warden,"  said  the  officer  in  charge  of  the  prisoner,  "  this 
is  one  of  Gleason's  confederates." 

"  We  are  crowded  to-night,"  said  the  Warden  ;  "  shall  we  place 
him  with  the  other  two  innocents,  or  with  Pat  Muldooney?  " 

"  Muldooney  is  drunk,  and  may  spoil  his  beauty,"  said  the  offi- 
cer, looking  at  the  young  man's  handsome  face. 

The  reporter  was  startled  at  the  prospect  of  a  night  passed  in 
conflict  with  a  drunken  Irishman. 

"Mr.  Warden,"  he  said,  blandly,  "so  good-looking  a  man  as 
yourself  can  well  afford  to  be  generous.  Give  me  the  other  cell. 
And  have  you  such  a  thing  as  a  good  cigar  about  you?  " 

The  Warden's  face  smiled  all  over  like  a  swarm  of  bees.  It  was 
clear  this  was  the  first  time  in  a  long  life  that  he  had  ever  been  com- 


THE  UNKXOWtf  CITT. 


19 


plimented  on  his  personal  appearance.  He  took  from  his  pocket  a 
cigar,  and  handed  it  to  the  reporter. 

"  Take  him  to  Grey's  cell,"  he  said.  "Let  him  have  the  best 
that  the  prison  affords,  and  no  commissions."  At  this  the  reporter 
was  conducted  by  a  keeper  through  the  door  opposite  the  one  he 
had  entered,  ink)  the  courtyard  of  the  prison. 

"That  is  the  place  where  Duncan  escaped,  and  where  Millard 
was  killed,"  said  the  keeper,  pointing  to  a  ventilator  over  the  door 
of  a  cell.  "Duncan  was  thin,  and  got  through  the  hole  safely,  and 
over  the  wall  by  a  rope  his  friends  threw  across.  But  Millard  got 
his  head  through  the  hole,  but  could  not  go  forward  or  back.  He 
kept  silent,  and  let  his  friend  escape,  and  we  found  him  hanging 
there  dead  in  the  morning.  We  keep  two  bloodhounds  in  the  yard 
now." 

This  bit  of  local  coloring  gave  a  certain  touch  of  the  somber-ro- 
mantic to  the  reporter's  feelings,  as  he  passed  into  his  cell,  followed 
by  the  keeper. 

"Hullo!  my  worthy  pilot,  have  you  brought  another  vessel  into 
port?"  cried  a  tall,  fine-looking  man,  with  black  whiskers.  "Did 
you  bring  me  those  cigars?  How  much  was  the  duty  on  them? 
Remember,  to-morrow  morning  my  orders  are  to  have  no  one  ad- 
mitted, unless  he  comes  in  his  private  carriage.  One  has  to  keep  up 
a  little  state  in  such  places,"  he  added,  pleasantly,  turning  to  his 
companion,  a  man  whose  clear,  bright  eye,  and  round,  well-shaped 
head  argued  no  small  degree  of  intelligence. 

The  keeper  took  the  bill  which  was  proffered  him,  bowed  meekly, 
gave  the  speaker  some  cigars,  and  withdrew. 

The  reporter  sat  down,  and  took  out  his  cigar.  The  man  of 
black  whiskers  lit  a  match,  and  gave  him  a  light,  at  the  same  time 
proffering  a  cigar  to  the  third  occupant  of  the  cell,  who,  however, 
refused  it. 

"As  you  approached  the  door,"  said  the  affable  stranger  to  the 
new  prisoner,  "I  felt  my  right  arm  throb,  and,  being  skilled  in 
Hindoo  divination,  knew  that  some  event  of  importance  was  about 
to  befall  me.  Your  coming  must  have  an  influence  upon  my  lifer. 
Suppose — as  time  hangs  heavy  on  the  hands  of  men  of  leisure,  and 
the  evening  is  before  us — that  we  each  of  us  narrate  a  story  of  his 
own  adventures.  You,  as  the  latest  comer,  shall  have  the  honor  of 
beginning." 

This  proposal  was  not  disagreeable  to  the  two  hearers,  and  the 
reporter  began  the  following  story,  which  seemed  less  tedious  to  the 
prisoners  than  it  will,  I  fear,  to  more  critical  appetites: 


20 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


"My  name  is  Frank  Hazlet.  I  was  born  in  New  York  and, 
after  the  best  schooling  this  city  affords,  sent  to  Harvard  College. 
I  left  the  college  in  my  third  year  involved  in  dobt.  This 
embarrassment,  for  which  I  was  too  honorable  to  give  the  true  ex- 
cuse, drew  upon  me  the  censure  alike  of  the  virtuous,  who  feared 
that  I  might  wish  to  borrow  from  them,  and  of  the  vicious,  who 
knew  they  could  no  longer  borrow  from  me.  Little,  however,  did  I 
think  of  the  world's  praise  or  blame,  as  I  hurried  from  Cambridge 
to  attend  the  deathbed  of  my  father. 

"  When  I  arrived  in  New  York,  it  was  with  no  little  difficulty 
that  I  found  his  residence,  which  he  had  recently  changed  from 
Fifth  avenue  to  Kleine  Deutschland. 

"My  mother  had  died  many  years  ago.  There  were  but  two  per- 
sons in  the  world  whom  I  loved — my  father  and  a  friend. 

"I  had  always  supposed  that  we  were  rich,  and  my  surprise  at 
the  location  of  father's  new  home  was  increased  on  entering  his 
desolate  room.  One  friend  alone,  a  stranger  and  a  priest,  was 
sitting  by  his  bedside.  My  father,  on  seeing  me  approach,  feebly 
raised  his  head,  and  as  I  took  his  hand,  answered  my  pressure  with 
what  of  strength  and  love  he  could  command. 

"'I  have  nothing,'  he  said,  with  a  smile,  the  only  trace  of  a 
humor  which  had  once  made  him  the  delight  of  his  friends,  '  I 
have  nothing  to  give  you,  except  my  blessing  and  two  priceless 
maxims:  "Always  search  for  an  object  in  the  place  where  you 
would  least  expect  to  find  it,"  and  "Always  do  the  contrary  of 
what  a  woman  asks."  Had  I  but  followed  these  rules  !  But,  alas  ! 
I  looked  for  honor  among  gentlemen,  and  I  could  never  refuse  a 
woman.  I  began  life  a  millionaire.  I  end  it  a  pauper.  You,  my 
son  I  leave  in  the  only  position  from  which  it  is  possible  to  reverse 
the  journey.  Think  kindly  of  me,  my  son,  for  I  loved  you  with 
my  whole  heart.' 

"  Scarcely  had  he  finished  the  last  sentence  when  I  was  an  orphan. 
[  sold  what  little  I  possessed  to  give  my  father  a  decent  funeral,  and 
how  I  lived  afterward,  penniless,  hungry,  and  cold,  I  shudder  to  re- 
member. The  horrors  I  endured  have  made  the  names  which  the 
world  despises  forever  sacred  to  my  ear  and  tongue. 

"  One  day,  after  my  last  shirt  had  been  eaten,  I  was  standing  in 
the  City  Hall  Park,  with  my  coat  buttoned  up  to  my  neck.  Around 
me  swarmed  that  strange  army  of  vagrants,  who,  from  an  instinctive 
superstition  that  Government ^ougut  not  to  suffer  them  to  starve,  be- 
siege its  temples. 


THE  UXKXOWX  CITY. 


21 


"As  I  was  gazing  wistful!}*  around  me,  a  gentleman  approached, 
looked  at  me  a  moment,  and  inquired  if  I  would  like  to  earn  a 
dollar;  a  question  whose  answer  knows  with  the  wise  neither  variance 
nor  delay. 

"  '  Take  this  letter,  then,' he  said,  'to  its  address  in  Thirty-fourth 
street;  watch  until  you  see  a  man  leave  the  house;  ask  him  if  his 
name  is  Mr.  Conway  ;  if  he  answers  yes,  give  him  this  letter;  be 
sure  that  you  make  no  mistake  about  the  man.' 

"  I  took  the  dollar  and  the  letter,  and  placing  them  firmly  in  my 
pocket,  walked  rapidly  up  Broadway  until  I  reached  Thirty-fourth 
street.  I  marked  the  house  to  which  the  letter  directed  me,  and, 
fastening  my  eye  upon  it,  waited  no  little  time  without  seeing  any 
one  either  enter  or  leave  it. 

"  At  length  the  door  opened,  and  a  fine-looking  old  gentleman  of 
at  least  sixty  years  came  out  and,  swinging  a  large  cane,  walked 
merrily  toward  the  corner  where  I  was  standing.  I  at  once  accosted 
him,  and  learning  that  his  name  was  Conway,  presented  him  with 
the  letter.  I  had  noticed  that  it  was  directed  to  Mrs.,  not  Mr.  Conway; 
and  what  was  my  surprise,  though  I  emphasized  the  address,  to  see 
the  gentleman,  with  no  other  evidence  of  a  tortured  conscience  than 
a  careless  nod  of  the  head,  proceed  to  break  the  seal. 

"Mr.  Conway  began  to  read  the  letter  with  a  smile  of  pleasure  at 
the  confidence  which  his  wife  was  reposing  in  him.  As  he  con- 
tinued his  expression  changed,  and  recalled  to  me  the  face  of  an  old 
servant  on  discovering,  too  late,  that  his  genial  after-dinner  pipe  had 
been  filled  with  gunpowder. 

"  '  "Who  would  believe,'  I  said  to  myself,  'that  I  should  ever  fill 
the  gentle  office  of  dun,  and  myself  enjoy  that  pleasure  which  I 
have  so  often  provided  for  others?  ' " 

"  As  I  was  musing,  Mr.  Conway's  face  grew  calm. 

"'Did  you  write  this  letter?'  he  asked  me,  with  a  searching 
glance. 

"'I  did  not.' 

'"Who  did?' 

"  '  I  do  not  know. 

"  Mr.  Conway  gazed  steadily  in  my  face  for  some  moments. 
"'You  look  like  a  gentleman,'  he  said,  at  length.    'What  is 
your  name?' 

"  ' I  do  not  know,'  I  replied;  for  poverty  improves  upon  the  So- 
cratic  wisdom,  and  teaches  us  to  know  nothing  without,  to  know 
everything  for,  a  consideration. 


22 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


"'Look  you,'  said  Mr.  Conway,  who  was  unable  to  avoid  smil- 
ing, '  I  always  judge  a  man  by  looking  him  in  the  eye.  You  look  to 
me  like  an  honest  fellow.  Find  out  for  me  who  wrote  that  letter, 
and  I  will  give  you  a  dollar.' 

"  This  offer  in  the  morning  would  have  filled  me  with  joy,  but  I 
was  now  a  capitalist,  and,  seeing  that  fortune  was  at  length  betray- 
ing a  true  affection  for  me,  I  refused  to  undertake  the  task  for  a  less 
price  than  five  dollars,  to  be  paid  in  advance.  It  was  with  difficulty 
that  I  could  avoid  devouring  my  new  friend  with  my  eyes,  while 
this  matter  was  at  issue,  and  you  can  imagine  my  delight  when  I 
saw  my  boldness  crowned  with  success. 

"I  promised  to  report  to  Mr.  Conway  that  evening,  and  he 
walked  away,  his  cane  no  longer  swinging  lustily  this  way  and  that, 
but  tucked  demurely  under  his  arm. 

'"I  will  hasten  back  to  the  park,'  I  thought,  when,  by  some  an- 
tic of  fancy,  there  stole  into  my  mind  the  two  maxims  of  my  dying 
father.  '  Where  shall  I  be  less  likely  to  find  this  stranger  than  in 
this  very  spot? '  I  exclaimed,  and  I  determined  to  remain  where  I 
was. 

"There  was  a  small  restaurant  near  by  whose  window  com- 
manded a  view  of  Mr.  Conway's  house,  and  thither  I  betook  myself, 
and  called  for  some  grateful  refreshment.  I  had,  I  confess,  as  little 
hope  of  again  seeing  my  former  employer,  as  of  recovering  an  iden- 
tical glass  of  water  which  I  might  have  poured  into  the  Hudson. 
My  conscience,  however,  spurred  me  to  do  something  to  repay 
Mr.  Conway,  and  caused  me  from  time  to  time  to  glance  toward  his 
house.  When  not  so  employed,  I  was,  like  Alnaschar,  engaged  in 
turning  my  money  over  and  over,  until  it  grew  into  a  fortune  that 
beggared  the  Rothschilds. 

"  I  had  just  finished  my  dream  and  my  cigar,  and,  with  a  sigh 
turned  to  throw  the  stump  into  the  street,  when  I  became  aware 
of  a  clerical  gentleman  sauntering  past  the  window.  The  man  was 
of  an  appearance  to  attract  an  idle  eye;  his  square-cut  coat,  in  spite 
of  the  heat,  was  closely  buttoned  around  his  neck;  his  thick,  white 
hair  was  brushed  back  from  an  attractive  face;  and  his  step  seemed 
light  for  a  man  who,  from  other  proofs,  was  clearly  past  middle 
age. 

"  As  he  passed  by  the  open  window  with  his  eyes  bent  upon  the 
ground,  my  attention  was  attracted  to  the  perfume  of  a  strong  but 
agreeable  essence,  which  seemed  to  remind  me  of  the  man  who  had 
given  me  the  letter. 


THE  UNK^OWK  CITT. 


23 


"  'Pshaw!  how  absurd! '  I  exclaimed;  yet,  slight  as  the  incident 
was,  it  induced  me  to  keep  my  eye  upon  him. 

'"His  gait,  too!'  I  said  to  myself,  and  reflected  how  much 
harder  it  is  to  disguise  one's  motions  than  one's  face. 

"'I  declare,'  I  cried,  with  a  strange  hope,  'if  he  enters  the 
house,  I  will  follow  him; '  and  I  watched  the  clergyman's  steps  with 
a  breathless  but  incredulous  interest.  He  was  walking  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  street  to  Mr.  Conway's,  and,  as  he  drew  near  the 
house,  one  of  the  parlor  window- shades  was  drawn  slowly  down. 
He  had  reached  a  point  opposite  the  house.  '  He  will  pass  by,'  I 
said,  sadly.  '  But  no,  he  has  crossed  over  the  street,  and,  as  I  live, 
is  going  up  the  steps! ' 

"  A  moment  later  I  had  paid  my  bill,  and  stolen  after  him.  I 
entered  the  basement  area,  and  rang  the  bell,  which  was  answered 
by  a  pretty  serving-maid.  '  I  am  the  servant  of  the  gentleman  who 
is  calling  on  your  mistress,'  I  said  to  her,  '  and  would  be  thankful 
for  permission  to  sit  awhile  in  the  hall. ' 

"  'What,  are  you  Dr.  Leonard's  servant?'  she  exclaimed. 

"  '  I  am  his  servant  and  3^ours,  my  pretty  Hebe,'  I  answered,  and, 
slipping  a  quarter  into  her  hand,  was  ushered  by  her  into  the  dining- 
room. 

"  After  a  few  compliments  the  girl  became  friendly,  and  seemed 
to  think  there  was  no  reason,  in  the  nature  of  things,  why  the  pleas- 
ures of  society  and  conversation  should  be  confined  to  the  parlor. 

'"Iam  sorry  to  be  so  selfish  as  to  detain  you,'  I  said  to  her  at 
length.    '  Will  not  your  mistress  be  angry?  ' 

"  '  So  long  as  Dr.  Leonard  is  with  her,'  replied  the  girl,  smiling, 
'all  my  mistress  cares  about  is  not  to  be  interrupted.' 

"  I  nodded  my  head  wisely,  as  though  I  were  in  the  secret. 

•'  Theve  is  only  one  strange  thing  about  my  master.  Why  does 
he  wear  that  white  wig  when  he  would  look  so  much  younger  and 
better  in  his  own  hair?  ' 

"'  It  isn't  a  wig,'  replied  the  girl,  with  a  warmth  that  showed 
that  the  Doctor  had  not  forgotten  to  make  her  his  ally. 

"  'I  am  sure  of  it,'  I  rejoined. 

"  '  I  would  wager  my  life  against  it.' 

"  '  I  will  prove  it  to  you,'  I  concluded.  '  Tour  mistress  has  his 
photograph.  When  he  leaves,  bring  it  to  me,  and  I  will  show  you 
the  dark  hair  creeping  from  under  the  white. ' 

1 '  Opposition  had  made  the  girl  quite  in  earnest,  and,  as  soon  as 
the  Doctor  had  gone,  she  went  to  the  parlor,  and,  finding  the  photo- 
graph, brought  it  to  me. 


24 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


"  *  I  was  right,'  I  exclaimed,  striking  the  table  with  my  hand, 
'  and  you  were  right,'  I  continued,  turning  to  the  girl.  1  This  photo- 
graph differs  from  mine.    Let  me  keep  it  till  to-morrow.' 

"  Having  gained  my  object,  I  repaid  the  girl  with  a  kiss,  and  re- 
turned to  the  restaurant  to  meditate  upon  events,  and  order  my 
future  conduct.  Twist  the  matter  as  I  would,  the  character  of 
the  man  who  had  given  me  the  letter  grew  blacker  and  blacker. 

"  'I  see  it  all,'  I  said,  at  length.  '  The  lady  will  not  yield  to  the 
godless  prayers  of  the  old  hypocrite.  This  letter,  addressed  to  her, 
and  given  to  her  husband,  is  to  excite  the  jealousy  of  Mr.  Conway, 
and  cause  a  breach  between  him  and  his  wife.  Indignant  or  for- 
saken, she  will  then  lend  a  kinder  ear  to  the  treacherous  whispers  of 
the  hoary-headed  villain.  Poor  woman !  and  I  am  to  be  an  instru- 
ment in  carrying  out  such  a  crime.  I  will  expose  it  this  very  min- 
ute.' And,  marching  back  boldly  to  the  house,  I  mounted  the  steps, 
and  rang  the  bell. 

"  The  maid  opened  her  eyes  at  seeing  my  sudden  social  elevation, 
but  a  second  small  honorarium  convinced  her  that  my  conduct, 
however  mysterious,  was  substantially  correct,  and  she  announced 
my  assumed  name  to  her  mistress. 

"  Mrs.  Conway  soon  entered  the  parlor,  and  the  sympathy  which 
I  had  felt  for  the  danger  of  i»n  unseen  woman  was  redoubled  when 
I  saw  her  charming  figure  und  graceful  carriage.  She  was  veiled 
and  dressed  for  a  drive,  but,  though  I  could  not  see  her  face  clearly, 
her  dark  eyes,  contrasting  with  her  golden  hair,  gave  prophecy 
of  a  beauty  which  I  am  sure  was  not  deceptive. 

"  '  Madam,'  I  began,  as  soon  as  she  was  seated,  '  the  person  who 
has  just  left  you  has  two  characters:  down  town  he  appears  as  a 
man  of  business;  he  has  just  visited  you  as  a  clergyman.  This 
morning  he  caused  a  letter  which  was  directed  to  you  to  be  given  to 
your  husband  to  read.  This  was  done,  I  make  no  doubt,  in  order  to 
excite  your  husband's  jealousy,  and  cause  a  quarrel  between  you 
and  him,  with  what  ulterior  object,  alas!  women  of  such  surpassing 
attractions  as  yourself  can  but  too  easily  divine.  I  thought  it  my 
duty  to  call  and  warn  you  of  your  danger.' 

"  Mrs.  Conway  heard  my  story  with  an  eager  ear. 

"  1 1  thank  you,  my  dear  sir,'  she  said,  at  its  conclusion,  in  a 
voice  whose  rare  sweetness  made  up  the  complement  of  her  charms; 
'  you  have  done  me  a  service — a  great  service.  How  shall  I  repay  so 
generous  a  cavalier? '  Then  drawing  from  her  finger  a  diamond 
ring — 'Wear  this,'  she  continued,  'in  memory  of  one  for  whose 


THE  UtfKNOWK  CITY. 


25 


sake  you  have  risked  much,'  and,  with  a  friendly  bow,  she  left  the 
room. 

"  'Fortune  has  at  length,'  1  thought,  '  recovered  the  use  of  her 
eyes,  and  has  resolved  to  select  a  worthy  person  for  her  favorite;  to 
money  she  adds  jewels;  to  jewels  what  richer  treasure  is  she  about 
to  join?'  1  was  proceeding  to  slip  the  ring  upon  my  finger,  when 
the  last  two  words  spoken  by  the  lady  returned  to  my  ear  with  a  dis- 
agreeable echo.  At  the  same  time,  the  two  maxims  which  consti- 
tuted my  only  inheritance  recurred  to  my  mind.  1  Always  do  the 
contrary  of  what  a  woman  asks,'  I  repeated  with  a  sigh,  and,  after 
a  struggle,  resolved  to  offer  up  my  ring  upon  the  altar  of  paternal 
love.  Having  so  determined,  I  took  from  the  card-case  an  enve- 
lope addressed  to  Mrs  Conway,  and,  dropping  my  ring  in  it,  laid  it 
upon  the  mantelpiece. 

"I  opened  the  door,  walked  slowly  down  the  steps,  and  was 
turning  to  the  right,  when  a  policeman  sprang  from  the  basement 
area,  and,  waving  his  warlike  club,  bade  me  yield  myself  prisoner. 
1  You  will  learn  soon  enough  on  what  charge,'  he  added,  roughly, 
in  answer  to  my  inquiries,  and  hurried  me  away  to  the  station- 
house. 

"  Scarcely  had  we  arrived  there  when  a  carriage  stopped  before 
the  door,  and  what  was  my  horror  to  see  Mrs.  Conway  hasten  after 
me  to  the  bar,  and  charge  me  with  having  stolen  her  ring. 

"'I  am  lost,'  I  thought,  but,  collecting  my  courage  and  my 
thoughts,  I  looked  eagerly  about  me.  The  police  captain  happened 
to  be  absent,  and  a  sergeant  was  in  his  chair,  whose  face  seemed  to 
promise  something  more  of  honesty  and  intelligence  than  the  aver- 
age official.  Begging  the  privilege  of  a  few  words  with  him  in  pri- 
vate, I  explained  to  him  fully  the  facts  of  the  case,  and  urged  him 
with  all  my  eloquence  to  send  an  officer  with  me  to  Mrs.  Conway's 
house  to  secure  the  ring,  the  possession  of  which  I  saw  was  vital  to 
my  case. 

"  The  sergeant  was  so  much  interested  in  my  story  that,  though  but 
half  believing  it,  he  called  a  hack,  and  bade  the  driver  follow  Mrs. 
Conway's  carriage  to  her  house.  On  reaching  it,  on  some  pretext, 
we  all  entered  the  house  together,  and  the  officer  and  I,  hastening  to 
the  parlor,  to  my  great  joy  found  the  ring  upon  the  mantelpiece, 
where  I  had  placed  it.  After  a  few  firm  words,  Mrs.  Conway 
was  forced  to  state  that  she  had  made  a  mistake,  and  I  was  set  at 
liberty. 

"Prudence  now  urged  me  to  abandon  an  inquiry  of  which  the 


26 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


profit  was  uncertain  and  the  danger  sure.  Poverty  and  curiosity 
have,  however,  more  potent  tongues  than  prudence  and  danger;  and 
I  resolved,  happen  what  would,  to  penetrate  a  mystery  whose  widen- 
ing wave  was  involving  so  many  strange  characters  within  its 
sweep. 

"  I  therefore  watched  for  Mr.  Conway  at  the  corner  of  Broad- 
way and  Thirty-fourth  street,  and,  about  an  hour  before  sunset,  was 
fortunate  enough  to  see  him  step  from  the  car. 

'  Mr.  Conway,'  I  said  to  him,  '  before  going  further  in  this  busi- 
ness, I  wish  to  see  your  letter.' 

' '  He  hesitated  for  some  moments,  and  again  looked  me  in  the 
face. 

I  have  never  been  deceived,'  he  said,  'by  man  or  woman; 
'  you  do  not  look  like  a  villain. ' 

"  '  Sir,  I  am  a  gentleman  worthy  of  at  least  as  much  respect  as 
yourself. ' 

' '  He  made  no  answer  to  my  foolish  outburst,  but,  after  a  few 
minutes,  placed  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  drew  out  the  letter.  It 
read  as  follows : 

'"Mrs.  Stewart  Conway: 

"  '  Madam, — I  have  learned  that  your  husband  is  in  the  habit  of 
frequenting  some  of  the  lowest  haunts  in  the  city.  In  spite  of  my 
regret  for  the  pain  which  it  will  cause  the  innocent,  my  duty  to  so- 
ciety will  compel  me  to  disclose  these  facts  to  his  fellow-churchmen 
and  citizens. 

' ' '  Yours,  etc. , 

" '  Member  of  the  Society  for  the 
"'Prevention  of  Evil.' 

"  'The  object  of  the  letter  is  obvious,'  I  said,  smiling  to  think 
how  different  was  its  import  from  what  the  amorous  instincts  of 
youth  had  suggested.  '  If  you  are  saved  from  the  attack  of  this 
rascal,  Mr.  Conway,  I  suppose  you  will  be  grateful  to  me.' 

" 'You  are  not  deceiving  me?'  he  exclaimed,  seizing  my  hand 
with  the  eagerness  of  a  drowning  man  catching  at  a  straw. 

"  '  Deceiving  you?  Mr.  Conway,  I  will  tell  you  who  I  am.  I  am 
the  son  of  Royal  Hazlet. ' 

"  'The  son  of  Royal  Hazlet,  whom  to  know  was  to  admire  I  I 
heard  of  his  death,  but  I  did  not  know  that  he  left  a  son.* 

"  'I  am  his  son.  I  have  starved,  but  I  have  never  done  a  dis- 
honorable action.' 

"  'This  is  a  strange  business,'  and  Mr.  Conway's  face  again  clouded. 


THE  UNKN"OWK  CITY. 


27 


'This  afternoon  my  friend  Palmer  met  me  at  Delmonico's,  and 
drawing  me  aside,  told  me  that  this  very  morning  he  had  been  pre- 
sented with  a  threatening  letter.  With  that  he  thrust  his  hand  into  his 
pocket  and  gave  me  the  letter  to  read.  It  was  addressed  to  his  wife, 
and  was  similar,  word  for  word,  to  mine. 

"  '  As  we  were  speaking  about  the  matter,  he  nodded  to  our  friend 
Kingsley,  who  was  seated  at  a  table  near  by.  Shortly  afterward 
Kingsley  himself  joined  us,  and  Palmer  whispered  to  him  what  he 
had  just  told  me. 

"  *  Upon  my  soul,'  cried  Kingsley,  '  this  is  a  deep-laid  plot.  I  have 
myself  received  a  letter  from  the  same  man.  It  came  within  an  ace 
of  falling  into  my  wife's  hands. '  And  with  that  he  showed  us  another 
of  those  infernal  epistles.  '  Observe,'  he  added,  '  how  cleverly  the 
rascal  has  worded  them.  It  would  be  impossible  to  indict  him.  He 
must  have  retained  some  lawyer  or  judge.' 

"  'Let  us  meet  at  my  house  to-night  and  sift  this  matter  thoroughly. 
Perhaps  some  more  of  our  friends,  Lucius  or  Charley,  have  been 
equally  favored,'  said  Palmer,  with  a  chuckle. 

"  '  So  it  has  been  arranged  that  we  are  to  meet  at  Palmer's  house 
this  evening  at  eight.' 

"  'Is  Mr.  Palmer  your  friend?    Who  is  he?  ' 

"  '  Palmer  is  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  city.' 

"  I  reflected  a  moment.  '  Mr.  Conway,  you  must  take  me  with 
you  to  his  house.  Place  me  where  I  can  see  the  faces  of  all  who 
enter.  But  you  must  promise  me  one  thing  upon  your  honor:  not 
one  word  of  this  to  your  wife.' 

"'My  wife!'  and  an  expression  of  pain  came  over  his  face. 
'My  wife!  Are  you  crazy?  I  have  given  myself  away  to  you,'  he 
added,  clutching  me  by  the  arm,  '  but  I  trust  you.  I  love  my  wife 
to  distraction.  She  is  the  most  sensitive  being  in  the  world*.  The 
least  suspicion  of  me  would  kill  her.' 

"  '  Confide  in  me,  Mr.  Conway ;  I  will  hazard  my  fortune  on  my 
success.  If  I  deceive  you,  you  will  lose  nothing  except  the  belief 
in  your  power  of  reading  the  character  through  the  eyes.' 

"  In  the  evening  Mr.  Conway  took  me  to  Palmer's  house,  and.  con- 
cealed in  an  adjoining  room,  I  watched,  unseen,  figure  after  figure, 
each  more  funereal  than  the  other,  mount  the  stairs,  and  join  its  co- 
victims  in  the  library.  I  counted  ten  of  them,  but  my  heart  sank 
into  my  pocket  as  each  face  that  I  eagerly  scanned  failed  to 
recall  any  of  the  features  of  my  protean  friend. 

"As  the  room  gradually  filled,  what  art  could  reproduce  the 


28 


THE  UISTKNOWK  CITY. 


vigorous  and  varied  declamation  that  denounced  the  unknown  pro- 
moter of  the  meeting;  or  what  barbarous  or  classic  imagination 
invent  a  place  of  torture  to  which  he  was  not  consigned? ' 

"'Gentlemen,'  said  Mr.  Palmer,  at  length,  'our  righteous  an- 
ger must  not  blind  our  common  sense.  As  practical  men,  we  should 
aim  rather  to  prevent  or  cure  an  evil  than  to  abuse  its  author.  The 
charges  contained  in  these  letters,  such  is  the  infirmity  of  our  com- 
mon human  nature,  are  unfortunately  but  too  true.  The  writer  is 
probably  some  servant  or  detective;  my  advice  is  to  find  him  out, 
and,  for  a  trifling  sum,  buy  his  silence.  I  would  propose  that  Mr. 
Kingsley  be  made  chairman  of  this  meeting.' 

"A  nodding  of  heads  followed  Mr.  Palmer's  motion,  and  Mr. 
Kingsley,  a  brisk  man  of  middle  age,  arose  and  rapped  upon  the 
table  with  a  ruler. 

"  '  Let  us  pray,'  he  began. 

"These  three  blasphemous  words  cost  him  nine  thousand  dollars. 
As  he  uttered  them,  his  face  assumed  for  a  moment  an  expression 
wholly  different  to  what  it  had  before  worn.  I  struck  my  hand  upon 
my  knee.  '  It  is  Dr.  Leonard!'  I  cried,  and  fastened  my  eye  upon 
him  as  eagerly  as  a  miner  upon  his  first  assay. 

"After  a  few  further  words  from  Mr.  Kingsley,  Mr.  Palmer  pro- 
posed that  a  committee  of  two  be  appointed,  of  which  the  chair 
should  be  one,  to  ferret  out  the  plot.  Mr.  Palmer  himself  declining 
to  serve  on  account  of  his  business  engagements,  Mr.  Kingsley  se- 
lected Mr.  Waterson  for  his  assistant.  At  that  name  an  elderl}'  gen- 
tleman, whose  restless  motions  showed  him  to  be  a  victim  of  the 
gout,  arose,  and,  after  many  appeals  to  the  unseen  powers,  swore 
that  he  would  unravel  this  intrigue,  if  it  cost  him  his  life. 

"  '  With  Mr.  Watcrson's  experience,'  added  Kingsley,  as  the  old 
gentleman  precipitated  himself  into  his  seat,  '  with  Mr,  Waterson's 
experience  in  all  matters  requiring  firmness  and  delicacy,  I  have  no 
fear  of  not  bringing  this  search  to  a  successful  conclusion.  There  is 
one  thing  more,' — and  his  face  assumed  an  expression  of  stern  com- 
mand— '  it  must  be  understood  that  we  act  together.  Overtures 
will  doubtless  be  made  to  settle  with  us  separately.  Such  a  division 
would  be  fatal.    We  must  swig  and  swing  together.' 

"'  Great  heavens!  '  I  exclaimed,  as  I  listened  to  the  applause 
which  followed  his  words.  '  What  wonderful  man  is  this!  Not  a 
moment's  hesitation;  not  a  false  note!  What  a  rugged  frank, 
ness  there  is  about  him!  Am  I  deceived,  or  has  Honesty  itself 
turned  swindler  1    Suppose  his  vigorous  fancy  should  suggest  trans- 


THE  UKKH0WJ8  CITY. 


29 


porting  me  within  the  walls  of  a  prison.  How  easily,  with  his  ac 
complices,  it  could  be  done! ' 

"  While  such  thoughts  were  passing  through  my  mind,  the  meet- 
ing adjourned  for  two  days,  and,  after  a  short  period,  Mr.  Conway 
opened  my  door. 

"  It  would  now  have  been  wiser  for  me  to  have  at  once  unveiled 
the  whole  mystery,  but,  as  I  had  the  game  in  hand,  I  preferred  a 
dramatic  denouement.  After  exacting  a  promise  from  Mr.  Conway 
and  his  friend  that  they  would  not  say  a  word  to  any  one,  I  tried 
to  possess  my  soul  in  patience  until  the  two  days  should  have 
elapsed. 

.  "At  length  the  hour  arrived,  and  the  careworn  worthies,  one  by 
one,  entered  Mr.  Palmer's  library.  Last  of  all,  old  Waterson  hob. 
bied  in  upon  a  pair  of  crutches,  an  addition  evidently  of  his 
last  two  days'  labor.  "Waterson,  as  appeared  from  Kingsley's 
eulogy,  which  the  groans  of  the  old  man  confirmed,  as  soon  as  he 
had  scented  the  trail,  had  hurried  with  fresh  hope  from  covert  to 
covert  until  his  knees  had  sunk  beneath  him. 

I  refused,'  continued  Kingsley,  'to  allow  my  friend  Charles 
to  sacrifice  a  life  so  dear  to  all  that  is  fair  and  friendly  as  his  own, 
and  so  pressed  on  the  search  alone.  I  will  omit,  however,  the  de- 
tails. Suffice  it  to  say  that  I  have  found  the  man.  He  is  a  waiter 
in  a  restaurant,  in  appearance  about  my  height,  dark  eyes,  a  bass 
voice,  and  a  quick,  nervous  step.  Some  of  you  may  remember 
him. ' 

"  The  man,  I  saw,  was  giving  a  description  of  me,  and  his  words, 
it  was  clear,  were  not  lost  on  Conway  and  Palmer,  for  they  glanced 
at  each  other  with  a  suspicious  look  which  1  did  not  relish. 

"'  The  rascal  is  not  without  brains,'  Kingsley  went  ou  to  say. 
'He  knows  that  we  are  in  his  power,  and  his  lowest  price  is  a 
thousand  dollars  a  head.  I  tried  to  beat  him  down,  but  he  says  he 
wants  to  get  a  college  education  and  start  life  like  a  gentleman,  and 
he  will  not  budge  an  inch.  I  am  a  family  man  myself,  and  I  can- 
not afford  to  have  the  facts  come  out.  I  have  drawn  my  check  for 
the  amount;  but,  as  I  agreed,  I  will  stand  by  the  opinion  of  the  ma- 
jority of  the  meeting.' 

"  Most  of  the  men,  it  was  clear,  were  thankful  at  being  let  off  so 
cheaply.  As  they  were  bumping  heads  over  the  matter,  Conway 
and  Palmer  stole  away,  and  entered  the  room  where  I  was  in  hiding. 

"'I  suppose,'  said  Palmer  to  me,  with  a  sneer,  'that  you  will 
advise  us  not  to  pay  the  money.  You  have  begun  your  career  well, 
my  young  friend.' 


30 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


"  '  Sir! '  I  hissed.  But  thinking  what  folly  it  would  be  to  trans- 
fer, at  the  last  moment,  the  noose  which  I  had  fastened  around  the 
neck  of  the  criminal  to  my  own,  I  curbed  my  anger.  '  Sir! '  I  said, 
haughtily,  '  you  may  pay  what  or  whom  you  please.  But  do  not 
you,  Mr.  Conway,  pay  one  cent  until  you  have  asked  Kingsley  the 
name  of  the  man  who  wrote  the  letters.  That  question  I  will  my- 
self answer  in  person.' 

"  '  That's  fair,'  said  Conway,  his  eye  brightening,  and  as  the  two 
returned  to  the  library,  I  followed  them  softly  as  far  as  the  door. 

"  '  It  is  agreed,  then,  gentlemen,'  said  Kingsley,  as  they  entered, 
'  that  we  shall  each  pay  a  thousand  dollars.' 

"  'Pardon  me  a  moment,'  said  Conway,  'but  will  Mr.  Kingsley 
first  tell  us  the  name  of  the  man  who  wrote  these  letters?  ' 

"  'His  name  ' —  began  Kingsley. 

"  '  His  name,'  I  repeated,  pushing  open  the  door  and  striding  into 
the  room,  '  is  Edward  Kingsley,  alias  Dr.  Gregory  Leonard,'  and  I 
pointed  my  finger  at  the  face  of  the  Chairman. 

"  The  suspense  of  the  dramatic  situation  was  broken  by  two  old 
gentlemen  greedily  snatching  up  their  checks,  which  they  had  in- 
cautiously laid  down.  Then,  amid  a  derisive  laugh  that  ran  around 
the  room,  "Waterson's  piping  voice  was  heard. 

"  '  I  move  that  the  meeting  adjourn  until  to-morrow  evening;  Mr. 
Kingsley's  attendance  optional.' 

"No  money,  you  may  be  sure,  was  ever  paid  Kingsley,  and 
Waterson  was  so  pleased  at  my  graceful  carriage  of  the  business, 
that  he  secured  for  me  an  appointment  as  Reporter  for  the  New 
York  Comet. 

"  This  afternoon  I  was  dispatched  to  learn  some  facts  about  the 
famous  burglar  Gleason,  when  I  was  arrested  by  the  police  as  a  con- 
federate, and  here  I  am." 

"  That  is  a  very  good  church  or  prison  story,"  said  the  gentleman 
of  black  whiskers,  "but  my  own  recent  adventures  are  as  much 
more  wonderful  than  yours,  as  my  skill  of  narration  is  inferior  to 
your  own." 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


31 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   SECOND  INNOCENT. 

"I  am  the  son  of  a  man  of  wealth,  who  lives  on  Fifth  avenue,  be- 
tween Thirtieth  and  Fortieth  streets.  One  of  my  ancestors  was  a  signer 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  Another  was  colonel  of  one  of 
the  British  regiments  stationed  in  New  York  at  the  close  of  the 
Revolution.  I  have  an  uncle  who  occupies  the  most  conspicuous 
mansion  in  Walnut  street,  Philadelphia:  and  one  (my  mother's 
brother)  who  resides  in  Beacon  street,  Boston.  The  Bostonian  has, 
however,  long  since  broken  off  all  social  relations  with  my  father  on 
account  of  the  latter's  pronouncing  tremendous  with  a  j. 

"Having  had  in  my  youth  more  money  than  I  could  spend,  I 
freely  indulged  in  those  vices  that  win  for  an  aristocrat  the  respect 
of  the  people,  and  the  admiration  of  his  peers.  My  fair  cousins 
especially,  who  are  as  pretty  as  they  are  numerous,  loved  to  recog- 
nize in  my  foibles  that  exuberance  of  strength  which  sustains  the 
_  name  of  Rutgers  against  the  winds  and  weathers  of  time. 

"My  taste,  singularly  enough,  always  preferred  the  society  of 
ladies  to  that  of  milliners  or  shop  girls,  who  are  usually  more  at- 
tractive to  men  of  my  rank.  Small  feet,  elegance  of  dress,  a  lan- 
guid charm  of  manner,  a  graceful  diction,  pleased  me  more  than 
the  vigorous  health  and  facile  feelings  which  mark  the  daughters  of 
the  lower  classes.  I  passed  most  of  my  time  at  the  club,  the  race- 
course, or  the  ball-room.  I  made  it,  however,  a  point  to  attend 
church  regularly  once  a  year,  and  thus  gained  for  myself  the  sup- 
port of  the  clergy.  A  little  scandal,  which  connected  my  name 
with  a  lady  of  the  first  fashion,  and  a  great  success  at  the  card-table, 
had  made  me  an  object  of  general  laudation,  when  I  suddenly  lost 
everything.  I  was  guilty  of  an  indiscretion  which  caused  my  pa- 
rents and  relatives  to  discard  me,  and  banished  me  from  society. 
One  lady  alone,  my  cousin,  remained  true  to  me.  Her  motive  was 
peculiar.  Miss  Godkin  is  so  homely  a  woman  that,  in  spite  of  ev- 
erything she  can  do  and  say,  she  is  thought  a  saint.  This  piques 
her  terribly,  as  her  ambition  is  to  be  considered  a  dangerous  woman. 
But  exert  herself  as  she  may,  she  can  make  no  impression  upon  her 
reputation.  Alone  with  this  rake,  driving  with  that,  at  the  oratorio 
with  the  other,  her  fair  friends  will  not  natter  her  tender  confessions 


32 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


by  anything  except  the  remark,  4  My  dear  Miss  Godkin,  how  good 
you  are! '  This  lady,  though  deeply  injured,  could  not  give  up  the 
hope  that  her  friendship  for  so  versatile  a  gentleman  as  myself 
might  excite  a  breath  of  scandal. 

"  The  act  that  declassed  me  was  the  one  virtuous  act  of  my  life; 

I  married  the  daughter  of  a  confectioner. 

"  I  had  always  avoided  the  society  of  persons  of  inferior  caste,  and 
by  what  mad  freak  of  Cupid  I  was  brought  not  merely  to  love,  but 
actually  to  marry  this  girl,  you  must  see  her  to  comprehend. 

' '  Sophronia  unites  to  a  fine  physique  the  manners  of  a  lady.  Good 
as  she  is  beautiful,  I  discovered  after  marriage  that  she  possessed  a 
quality  without  which  women  would  be  too  charming,  jealousy. 

"  Her  jealousy  is  also,  I  regret  to  say,  not  so  ill-founded  as  one 
could  have  wished.  As  it  is,  however,  always  misplaced,  I  solace 
myself  with  the  thought  that  her  want  of  charity  may  be  held  to  off- 
set my  own  peccadillos. 

Two  nights  ago  I  had  dropped  in  for  a  few  minutes  at  one  of 
Miss  Godkin's  soirees  musicales.  These,  as  you  know,  are  attended 
by  young  litterateurs  who  own  a  few  dress  coats  in  common,  by  a 
few  curious  daughters  of  our  bankers  and  railroad  adjusters  who 
wish  to  see  the  menagerie,  and  by  clever  married  ladies  who  are 
no  longer  deceived  by  the  wise  monosyllables  of  their  opulent 
husbands. 

"  As  I  was  about  to  return  home  to  Sophronia,  of  whose  dis- 
pleasure I  confess  myself  not  a  little  afraid,  Miss  Godkin  insisted  on 
introducing  me  to  a  lady  whose  mind  I  found  as  bright  as  her  face 
was  attractive.  Her  hair  came  down  low  over  her  forehead,  her 
mouth  was  a  trifle  large,  as  with  all  women  of  conversation,  her 
dark  eyes  were  full  of  power  and  expression. 

"  I  said  but  a  few  words  to  her,  and  was  taking  my  leave  when 
she  asked  me  if  I  would  not  call  upon  her  the  following  evening. 

I I  will  remain  at  home  to  receive  you,'  she  said  with  a  smile  whose 
flattery  I  could  not  resist. 

"  The  next  day  I  told  Sophronia  that  I  was  called  from  town  on 
busifTess,  and  could  not  return  until  the  following  evening.  Expe- 
rience has  shown  me  that  a  bold  stroke  of  this  kind  excites  less  sus- 
picion than  to  return  home  at  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  with  some 
stereotyped  excuse.  Having  thus  set  the  evening  at  liberty,  I  re- 
paired to  a  central  hotel,  registered  myself  as  William  Grey,  par- 
took of  a  fine  dinuer,  and  after  looking  at  the  directory  walked 
briskly  to  the  house  of  Colonel  Crocker. 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


33 


"Now,  I  have  a  cousin,  a  clergyman,  who  is  a  sort  of  conven- 
tionality on  stilts,  propriety  fossilized  and  tricked  out  in  all  its 
frills.  With  a  fine  intellect,  he  is  duller  than  a  received  opinion,  or 
a  reformer's  solitary  idea;  averse  to  his  wife,  he  would  sooner  be 
tortured  than  glance  at  another  woman.  My  nature  is  different, 
and  yet,  fortunately  or  unfortunately,  our  names  are  identical.  The 
worthy  divine  has  often  grown  restive  under  what  he  has  rudely 
styled  this  discipline  of  nomenclature.  Last  year,  when  I  was  ar- 
rested for  attending  a  prize  fight,  there  was  no  end  of  head-shaking 
in  my  cousin's  church.  He  had  often  boasted  of  his  large  arm,  and 
many  old  women  are  still  persuaded  that  this  vanity  seduced  him  to 
witness  the  unchristian  sport  of  the  bruiser.  This  incident,  I  know 
not  why,  was  in  my  mind  when  I  reached  the  door  and  rang  the 
bell. 

"  '  Is  Mrs.  Crocker  in? '  I  asked. 

"  '  She  is  not  at  home,'  replied  the  servant  girl,  with  a  look  of 
surprise. 

"'Not  at  home?'  I  answered,  piqued.  'Please  give  her  my 
card. ' 

"  The  girl  extended  her  hand,  with  some  embarrassment,  when  a 
gentleman  of  fine  appearance  drew  near. 
"  '  Whom  do  you  wish  to  see?  '  he  asked. 
"  'Mrs.  Crocker,'  I  replied. 

"'Mrs.  Crocker!'  he  echoed.    '  Have  you  not  heard  that  Mrs. 

Crocker  is  ' 

"  '  Not  sick?  '  I  asked,  anxiously. 
"  '  Worse  than  that,'  he  replied. 

"  '  Dead! '  I  cried;  '  and  yesterday  so  full  of  life  and  health.' 

"  '  Worse — worse  than  that;  she  has  left  her  husband! ' 

"  'Pardon  me,  sir,'  I  faltered;  'I  was  not  aware  of  this  indi- 
vidualization. But  I  am  sure  what  you  say  is  true,  for  to  leave  so 
charming  a  man  as  yourself  must  be  a  fate  far  worse  than  death.' 

"  At  these  words  the  colonel  opened  the  door  a  foot  or  two 
wider. 

"  '  Might  I  inquire  your  name?  '  he  asked. 
"  '  John  Rutgers,'  I  replied,  suavely. 

"'The  rector!'  cried  the  colonel,  trembling,  and,  though  his 
wife  had  flown,  with  a  prudent  instinct,  almost  closed  the  door  in 
my  face. 

'"Iam  not  the  rector,'  I  added,  hastily. 

"  '  Ah! '  and  he  threw  wide  the  door.  '  Will  you  not  enter,  Mr. 
Rutgers? ' 


34 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


"  My  whole  life  has  been  spent  in  chasing  the  humor  of  a  new 
sensation,  and  I  gladly  followed  my  new  friend  into  his  parlor, 
and,  taking  a  cigar,  asked  him  to  tell  me  his  troubles.  At  this  he 
began  the  old  story  of  man's  innocence  and  woman's  treachery.  I 
listened  to  him  with  the  calmness  of  a  philosopher  for  whom  the 
whistle  of  the  steam-engine  has  more  music  than  the  song  of  the 
siren. 

"  'I  perceive,'  I  said,  as  the  colonel  was  reloading  his  eloquence, 1 1 
perceive,  my  dear  sir,  from  the  force  and  eloquence  of  your  diction, 
that  you  are,  by  nature  and  education,  a  scholar  of  no  slight  parts. 
It  must  console  you  to  reflect  that  no  man  of  great  intellect  has  ever 
escaped  domestic  discord.  Let  Solomon,  Socrates,  and  Aurelius, 
the  three  wisest  names  of  the  three  nations  of  antiquity,  be  your 
comforters. ' 

"The  smile  with  which  the  colonel  greeted  my  remark  showed 
that  he  was  not  proof  against  the  honor  of  being  found  in  such  good 
company. 

You  are  right — you  are  right,' he  said,  warmly.  'Until  this 
winter  I  have  never  been  able  to  read  anything  except  the  Herald 
bulletin. Morning,  noon,  and  night,  I  was  blown  this  way  and  that 
by  the  breezes  of  fashion  which  my  wife  fanned  around  me.  It  was 
carriage  here,  carriage  there,  reception,  wedding,  dinner,  funeral, 
opera,  ball — Heaven  knows  what!' 

"  '  It  is  the  life  of  a  lackey,'  I  said,  and  then  ventured  cautiously 
to  inquire  who  could  have  been  found  to  harbor  so  foolish  a  wo- 
man. 

"  '  There  are  plenty  of  people  to  do  so,'  replied  the  colonel. 

"  And  though  I  repeated  my  question  in  a  dozen  different  forms, 
I  could  learn  from  him  no  more  definite  locality.  At  length  it  grew 
late  and  I  rose  to  take  my  leave.  My  host  pressed  upon  me  several 
books  of  philosophy,  which  I  declined.  I  walked  back  to  my  hotel, 
pursued  by  that  remorse  which  follows  a  virtue  of  necessity.  I  had 
half  undressed  myself,  and  was  thinking  that  I  had  not  greatly 
widened  the  difference  between  mankind  and  the  ass,  when  I  heard 
a  loud  knock  at  my  door.  I  unlocked  it  cautiously,  and  a  powerful- 
looking  man  pushed  into  the  room  without  ceremony,  and  sat  down 
upon  the  sofa. 

'"I  have  been  hunting  for  you  a  long  time,  Grey;'  he  began,  in  a 
dialect  that  half  broke  the  tympanum  of  my  ear. 

"  '  You  must  be  mistaken,  my  good  friend,'  I  replied,  not  wholly 
fancying  the  spirit  which  my  new  name  had  conjured  up. 


THE  CITY. 


35 


"  '  Mistaken! '  said  the  man,  with  a  hideous  grin;  'that's  a  good 
un.  Come,  Bill,  let's  liquor  up,'  and  he  rang  the  bell  for  some 
whisky.  '  You  and  Hendrick  are  the  best  fellows  in  our  profession 
for  a  disguise,  but  I  can  tell  you  anywhere  by  that  cast  in  your  left 
eye.  Now,  Grey,'  he  added,  in  an  angry  tone,  'you  played  me  a 
mean  trick  for  an  old  pal;  you  promised  to  pay  me  back  that  money 
that  very  afternoon.  You  knew  how  I  was  fixed.  It's  three  weeks 
to-day  since  my  teeth  went  to  the  dentist's,  and  I  haven't  had  money 
enough  to  lift  them.    Is  that  the  way  to  treat  a  gentleman?  ' 

"' What  is  the  amount  ?'  I  asked,  surveying  my  friend's  grow- 
ing bulk  with  increased  respect. 

"  This  inquiry  seemed  to  excite  him  to  fury. 

"  '  The  amount! '  he  cried.  '  You  know  the  amount  well  enough. 
It  was  every  dollar  I  had  in  the  world.  I've  been  living  for  three 
weeks  on  spoon  food,  but  I've  strength  enough  left  to  break 
every  bone  in  your  body  if  you  don't  pay  me  that  money.  And  I 
will,  or  my  name  isn't  Hum,'  he  nodded  his  head  impressively.  It 
was  clear  that  his  name  was  too  sacred  to  be  profanely  spoken. 

•  "  Payment  upon  compulsion;  what  can  be  more  odious  to  a  gen- 
tleman! And  yet  the  exposure!  Mrs.  Grundy!  my  darling 
Sophronia! 

"'My  dear  Hum,'  I  said,  nodding  my  head,  'I  can  pay  you 
five  dollars  to-day,  and  the  rest  next  week.' 

"'Five  dollars! '  mumbled  the  man,  disdainfully.  '  How  long 
is  it  since  you  have  eaten  fish  ?  I  owe  that  dentist  fifteen  dollars, 
and  what's  the  use  of  teeth  unless  you  give  them  work?  Let  me 
have  thirty  dollars,  and  the  balance  next  week.' 

"I  gave  the  man  the  money,  not  without  a  silent  prayer  that 
I  might  live  to  see  him  hanged. 

'"I  don't  mean  to  be  hard  on  you,  captain,'  said  the  rascal,  clap- 
ping the  bills  in  his  pocket  with  a  villainous  smile.  'No  one  has  a 
freer  hand  than  your  own  when  you're  flush.  But  it  sours  a  man's 
temper  to  clap  the  darbies  on  his  mouth.  There  was  a  heap  of  dead 
wood  in  your  last  haul.  Those  registered  bonds  swindle  the  pro- 
fession out  of  no  end  of  money.  So  you  arranged  the  affair  with 
Uncle  David,  and  are  out  of  hiding?  Come  round  to-morrow  to 
the  old  stand  under  the  theatre.  You'll  find  Shang  and  Alibi  there.' 
With  these  Delphic  expressions  he  shook  my  hand  warmly,  pressed 
his  forefinger  into  my  wrist,  and  left  the  room. 

"This  short  interview  gave  me  a  greater  respect  for  the  name  of 
my  ancestors  than  all  their  virtues  had  ever  done. 


3G 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


"'The  sooner  I  shuffle  off  this  new  character,'  I  cried,  'the 
better  pleased  I  shall  be  with  myself,'  and  I  rapidly  placed  my  tooth 
brush  in  my  vest  pocket,  and  drew  on  my  coat. 

"As  I  did  so  I  heard  a  timid  knock  at  the  door,  which  opened 
softly,  and  discovered  the  piquant  face  of  a  pretty  brunette  peeping 
into  the  room.  A  moment  more  she  had  thrown  herself  into  my 
arms. 

"  '  Cheri,  cheri,  what  an  age  since  I  have  seen  thee,'  she  cried, 
and  almost  strangled  me  with  her  embraces.  'What  danger  do  I 
not  run  to  meet  thee  but  for  this  moment?  My  husband  would  kill 
us  on  the  least  suspicion.  His  room  is  in  the  next  entry,  and  his 
gout  will  not  let  him  sleep.  Do  you  know  how  I  learned  that  you 
were  here?  It  was  the  luckiest  thing  in  the  world.  My  husband 
asked  me  to  open  a  telegram  for  him,  and  at  the  end  of  it  was  the 

beginning  of  another,  "William  Grey,  ar  ."    What  a  roguish 

masker  you  are!  I  should  never  know  you  if  I  did  not  love  you,' 
and  her  eyes  dancing  with  mischief,  she  tried  to  pull  off  my  nose. 

'To-morrow,  cheri,'  she  cried;  'to-morrow,  at  Mrs.  C  's,  early,' 

and  with  a  parting  caress  tripped  towards  the  door. 

"As  she  turned  she  caught  sight  of  my  watch,  which  I  had  laid 
upon  the  bureau.  Snatching  it  up,  she  held  it  a  moment  dangling 
at  the  end  of  the  chain.  'To-morrow,  cheri;  to-morrow.  I  shall 
keep  this  as  a  pledge  of  your  coining.  You  are  such  a  rover.  Au 
revoir! '  and  throwing  me  a  kiss,  she  was  gone. 

"  '  This  rascal's  little  finger,'  I  cried,  '  is  thicker  than  the  other's 
loins.  I  had  better  have  jumped  into  the  shirt  of  Nessus  than  this 
infernal  name.    Telegram.    William  Grey.    What  does  it  all  mean?' 

"  With  that  I  ran  to  the  door,  resolved  to  place  as  great  a  distance 
as  possible  between  my  two  selves. 

"As  I  flung  open  the  door,  I  was  aware  of  a  grim  shadow  just 
outside,  that,  placing  its  hand  upon  my  shoulder,  with  a  cold  and 
clammy  touch,  drew  me  back  into  my  room. 

"  '  You're  wanted,  Grey,'  he  said.  '  Don't  make  any  disturbance, 
but  come  with  me.  I  should  never  have  known  you,  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  your  old  pal.  Those  false  whiskers  disguise  you  so,'  and 
stretching  out  his  hand,  the  fellow  gave  them  a  vigorous  twitch. 

"This  so  enraged  me,  that  I  straightened  my  arm,  and  knocked 
him  down.  At  once  two  new  men  ran  into  the  room,  and  after 
being  well  pummeled  by  all  three,  I  found  myself  sitting  on  the  floor 
handcuffed. 

"A  crowd  of  waiters,  guests,  and  heaven  knows  what  nondescripts 


THE  UXKXOWN  CITY. 


37 


gathered  curiously  around  me.  Among  them  was  my  landlord,  who, 
as  soon  as  I  was  set  on  my  feet,  flourished  his  bill  frantically  in  my 
face.  I  derived  some  slight  Christian  consolation  by  telling  him  to 
take  his  bill  elsewhere,  and  remain. 

"Then,  amid  the  jeers  of  the  crowd,  which  I  answered  with 
vague  threats  of  vengeance,  I  was  led  down  stairs,  and  placed  in  a 
carriage. 

"The  only  solace  I  could  find  to  allay  the  pain  of  the  blows  I  had 
received,  was  that  the  sensation  of  the  Tombs  would  be  novel.  On 
arriving  here  I  at  once  telegraphed  for  my  friends,  Smiler,  the  law- 
yer, and  Reynolds,  the  famous  portrait  painter.  I  arranged  with 
Smiler  that  the  morning  papers  should  contain  a  brief  paragraph 
that  the  Rev.  John  Rutgers  had  been  imprisoned  in  the  Tombs  on  a 
charge  of  burglary.  My  wife,  Sophronia,  has,  among  other  virtues, 
that  most  attractive  one  of  never  reading  the  papers;  and  long  before 
the  mistake  becomes  known,  I  shall  have  arranged  an  alibi. 

"My  friend  Reynolds  was  intrusted  with  the  gentle  task  of  re- 
storing by  his  brush  the  right  side  of  my  face  to  its  former  beauty. 
He  has  a  little  overdone  it,  and  it  is  this,"  said  Rutgers,  turning  his 
head,  "which  causes  me  to  have  that  Janus  look,  half  rake,  half 
angel.  Reynolds  is  engaged  in  painting  the  portrait  of  a  bishop,  and 
I  think  he  has  put  a  little  too  much  of  that  sacred  gentleman  on  my 
"right  nostril  to  harmonize." 

Rutgers'  narration  caused  Hazlet  to  laugh  heartily,  but  extorted 
nothing  more  than  a  smile  from  the  third  prisoner. 

"Your  story,"  said  the  latter,  "could  hardly  fail  to  interest  a 
man  who  had  been  wrecked  for  some  weeks  upon  a  desert  island  ; 
but  my  own  recent  experience  has  been  so  much  more  extraor- 
dinary, that  you  must  pardon  me  for  regarding  yours  as  common- 
place." 

With  that  he  began  the  following  remarkable  tale. 


38 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

THE  THIRD  INNOCENT. 

"I  AM  almost  a  stranger  in  the  city,  having  arrived  here  but 
three  months  since  from  a  village  near  Lake  Erie,  where  I  was  raised. 
My  mother's  name  was  Bruce,  and  she  claimed  descent  from  the 
great  Scotchman.  This  fact  or  fancy  had  a  great  influence  on  her 
life.  Her  respect  for  the  spider,  which  is  held  in  reverence  by  the 
Bruce  family,  caused  her  to  study  deeply  the  habits  of  that  ingenious 
insect.  The  custom  of  the  female  spider  of  devouring  its  male 
especially  pleased  her,  and,  outweighing  the  lessons  taught  by  all 
other  animals,  made  her  a  strong-minded  woman,  of  the  most  severe 
class.  My  father,  who  was  a  bit  of  a  city  body,  and  whose  early 
habits  had  made  it  hard  for  him  to  withstand  the  assaults  of  reason, 
died  when  I  was  about  seventeen.  He  left  his  property,  at  my 
mother's  instance,  half  to  her  and  half  to  a  femaie  college.  She  soon 
afterwards  took  for  a  second  husband  a  man  of  such  fine  intellect, 
that  he  made  life  insupportable  to  every  one  around  him. 

"After  enduring  for  awhile  his  authority,  I  resolved  to  seek  my 
fortune  elsewhere  as  soon  as  opportunity  offered.  I  had  rich 
relatives  in  New  York,  one  of  whom,  a  great-uncle,  had  formerly 
taken  some  interest  in  my  father.  I  had  never  seen  him,  and,  indeed, 
knew  next  to  nothing  of  my  relations;  but,  as  he  was  childless,  and 
I  was  one  of  his  next  of  kin,  I  had  been  led  to  believe  that  I  should 
one  day  receive  part  of  his  property. 

"  I  had  a  taste  for  law,  and  had  passed  a  year  in  a  country  at- 
torney's office  at  the  time  of  my  mother's  second  marriage.  One  day 
my  young  sister  came  to  me  in  tears  on  account  of  a  punishment 
given  her  by  our  step-father.  I  took  her  part,  and  abused  him  so 
roundly  that  he  bade  me  leave  the  house.  This,  I  told  him,  I  had 
long  since  resolved  to  do,  and  added  that  I  was  going  to  New  York 
to  push  my  fortune.  My  mother  was  much  affected,  and  after  try- 
ing in  vain  to  dissuade  me,  gave  me  secretly  twenty-five  dollars, 
which  she  had  saved,  and  her  prayers  for  my  success. 

"I  came  to  the  city,  but,  partly  from  pride  and  partly  on  account 
of  my  poor  clothes,  remained  here  a  month  without  oalling  on  my 
uncle. 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


39 


"  '  I  will  wait  until  I  am  independent  and  respectable,'  I  said  to 
myself,  '  before  I  visit  my  rich  relations.' 

'*  I  soon  obtained  the  debatable  position  of  office  boy  or  clerk,  with 
a  little  bald-headed  attorney.  This  lawyer  spent  his  vital  force 
about  equally  between  poor  cigars  and  newspapers,  and  allowed  me 
to  do  all  his  law  business  for  the  sum  of  three  dollars  a  week. 

"Among  the  few  acquaintances  that  I  made  was  a  restaurateur 
named  Clute,  whose  charges  were  less  criminal  than  those  of  others. 
One  day,  after  my  capital  had  been  all  spent,  I  was  led  in  reviewing 
my  conduct  towards  my  uncle  to  regard  it  as  a  little  unchristian. 
This  view  was  emphasized  by  the  fact  that  for  some  time  I  had 
had  but  one  meal  a  day. 

"In  fact,  as  I  entered  my  friend  Clute's,  to  enjoy  this  combi- 
nation repast,  I  resolved  that  very  day  to  seek  out  my  relations.  I 
had  just  finished  eating  when  I  saw  one  of  the  customers,  on  re- 
ceiving his  bill,  fly  into  a  passion. 

"  '  It  is  a  swindle,  and  I  will  not  pay  it,'  he  cried. 

"  *  Call  me  a  swindler,  and  I'll  make  your  nose  acquainted  with 
my  fist,'  returned  the  restaurateur. 

"  This  well-balanced  dialogue  at  once  riveted  my  attention.  My 
host's  agile  strength  gave  point  to  the  humblest  metaphor  that 
suggested  a  personal  encounter.  His  lively  temper  had  not  been 
softened  by  having  passed  the  previous  night  at  the  police  station, 
a  victim  to  a  brilliant  raid  by  the  police  on  the  sellers  of  spirituous 
liquors. 

"  '  What  is  the  matter?'  I  asked,  with  the  instinct  of  a  profession 
to  which  no  quarrels  are  without  pleasing  possibilities. 

"  '  This  man  ordered  cucumbers  and  ice  cream  for  breakfast,  and 
refuses  to  pay  for  them,'  said  Clute,  sharply. 

'  I  placed  my  hand  firmly  upon  my  host's  shoulder  and  drew  him 
back  some  distance  from  his  customer. 

"  '  I  do  not  refuse  to  pay  for  them,'  replied  the  man,  pleased  at 
finding  a  friend  in  a  moment  of  danger,  '  but  I  will  not  be  hurried. 
Deliberation  is  wealth.  My  name  is  Hasty  Flint,  but  I  pay  delib- 
erate. Besides,  this  man  overcharges  me;  it's  five  cents  for  cucum- 
bers, and  he  asks  fifteen.' 

"  '  It  was  a  mistake  on  the  bill,'  interrupted  our  host. 

"  '  Silence,'  I  said,  'or  I  will  leave  you  to  the  penalty  of  the  law,' 
and  I  turned  to  the  stranger. 

"  His  appearance  lacked  nothing  of  ugliness  to  insure  his  hon- 
esty.   His  limbs  were  carelessly  tied,  or,  to  speak  accurately, 


40 


THE  UKKNOW^  CITY, 


hitched  to  his  body;  his  complexion  aspired  to  the  color  of  well- 
boiled  beef;  his  eye  resembled  the  toe  of  a  negro,  peeping  from  an 
ancient  boot.  I  felt  at  once  drawn  to  him,  as  a  jeweler  to  a  toad, 
and  fastened  my  gaze  upon  his  face.  As  I  did  so  I  was  aware  of 
four  small  wounds  in  his  right  cheek,  all  close  together,  as  if  made 
by  as  many  stabs  from  a  tenpenny  nail.  Though  not  curious,  1  hate 
mystery,  and  this  sight  provoked  my  love  of  inquiry  to  the  utmost. 

"  'My  friend,'  I  said,  '  our  host  is  clearly  in  the  wrong,  but  why 
dispute  about  trifles?  Debit  my  own  account,  Mr.  Clute,  with  the 
sum  of  ten  cents.' 

"Mr.  Flint  at  once  drew  a  wallet  from  his  pocket  and  counted  out 
the  sum  of  twenty  cents.  As  he  did  so  a  look  of  pain  came  over  his 
face,  and  he  placed  his  hand  about  six  inches  below  his  breast- 
bone. 

"'  Can  you  recommend  me,'  he  asked  Mr.  Clute,  'to  a  lawyer 
near  by — cheap  and  good.  Ever  since  I  came  to  this  unwholesome 
city  I  have  been  troubled  with  strange  pains  after  my  meals.  I  am 
going  on  a  journey,  and  I  wish  to  be  prepared  for  any  mishap — in  a 
word,  1  want  to  make  my  will.' 

"  '  There  is  no  better  lawyer  in  town  than  Mr.  Turner,'  said  the 
restaurateur,  pointingto  me,  'and  he  will  give  you  credit  for  a  j'ear.' 

"  I  smiled  and  frowned  at  this  speech,  but  taking  Mr.  Flint  to  a 
spare  room,  at  length  drew  up  for  him  the  document  he  wished 
My  fee,  after  a  severe  contest,  was  finally  marked  down  to  the  sum 
of  five  dollars. 

"'I  will  give  you  my  six  months'  note  for  that  amount,'  said  Mr. 
Flint,  and  proceeded  to  write  out  the  paper. 

"'Pardon  me,  my  friend,'  and  I  stayed  his  hand,  'but  the 
moment  you  have  told  me  what  caused  those  four  strange  wounds 
on  your  cheek  jrou  are  out  of  my  debt.' 

"These  words  made  Mr.  Flint  glance  anxiously  toward  the 
door. 

"  'My  dear  client,'  I  said,  hastening  to  remove  some  suspicion 
that  I  saw  was  lurking  in  his  mind,  '  my  dear  client,  I  am  a  lawyer, 
and,  you  must  see  from  the  prolonged  ambiguity  with  which  I  have 
disposed  of  your  large  estate,  a  lawyer  of  no  mean  position.  Be 
sure  whatever  you  tell  me  will  be  confidential.  No  torture  would 
induce  me  to  whisper  it  to  a  deaf  mute.' 

"'Thank  God,  my  young  friend,'  cried  Mr.  Flint;  'thank  God 
for  your  noble  words.  There  was  something  about  your  face 
that  I  loved  at  first  sight.  It  suggested  to  me  that  touching  feeling, 
"  I  can  save  something  by  that  man." ' 


THE  UKK^OWtf  CITY. 


41 


"  '  I  came  to  New  York,'  lie  then  began,  after  clearing  his  throat, 
'about  a  year  ago,  from  Cleveland,  where  I  was  born.  There,  when 
quite  young,  I  held  a  position  in  a  bank,  and  married  a  line-looking 
woman,by  whom  I  had  several  children.  We  lived  happily  for  some 
years,  but  at  length  the  widening  range  of  my  wife's  social  ambition 
gave  rise  to  a  serious  difference  between  us. 

"  '  Launch  out  into  business;  give  your  daughters  a  chance;  cut  a 
dash,'  she  urged;  to  which  I  replied:  '  Curtail  our  expenses;  pinch  a 
penny  here,  pinch  a  penny  there,  until  our  little  pile  grows  big  and 
sound.' 

"  Unluckily  fortune  lent  its  aid  to  my  wife's  argument.  Two 
old  uncles  of  mine,  at  the  age  of  eighty  and  eighty-one,  were 
left  heirs  to  a  large  fortune.  This  excited  in  each  of  them  strong, 
but  different  passions.  The  younger  became  a  ladies'  man,  and 
after  sowing  his  wild  oats,  was  reclaimed  by  the  hand  of  a  lovely 
widow,  of  whom  he  soon  grew  not  less  jealous  than  fond. 

"  The  elder  became  inspired  by  a  strange  and  unheard-of  passion, 
the  love  of  nephews.  This  led  him  in  three  years  to  spend  on  as 
many  nephews  several  million  dollars  without  a  murmur.  His 
generosity  sent  one  of  its  recipients  to  the  insane  asylum,  another  to 
a  suicide's  grave,  and  a  third  to  Brooklyn. 

"My  wife  was  not  long  in  learning  of  this  incredible  trait. 

"  'And  you  sit  here,'  she  reiterated  to  me,  'for  a  paltry  thousand 
dollars,  when  your  cousins  are  rolling  in  carriages,  their  wives 
covered  with  diamonds,  their  children — Bessie,  Bessie,  come  here,' 
she  used  to  say;  '  show  your  father  that  patch  in  your  dress  and  that 
hole  in  your  Sabbath  shoe.' 

"  In  a  word,  I  left  my  family,  and  came  here  to  my  uncle.  He 
received  me  with  open  arms,  and  at  once  gave  me  entire  charge  of  a 
company  that  manufactured  silver-plated  goods. 

"This  factory,  of  whose  capital  stock  he  owned  more  than  half, 
was,  with  the  exception  of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  of  United 
States  bonds,  all  the  property  that  now  remained  to  him. 

"  Every  day  I  passed  two  hours  at  the  office ;  during  which  time  I 
wrote  letters  to  my  children,  and  conversed  about  geography  with 
our  numerous  commercial  travelers. 

"Every  Saturday  morning  I  sent  to  my  uncle's  office  for  a  thou- 
sand dollars,  to  pay  our  workmen  and  current  expenses.  And  above 
all,  I  drew  my  large  salary  with  regularity. 

"In  a  few  months  I  had  learned  the  distinction  between  flat  and 
hollow  ware.    I  was  called  upon  to  perform  a  more  serious  labor  at 


42 


THE  UXKHOWN  CITY. 


the  end  of  the  first  year,  in  asking  my  head  clerk  to  draw  up  a 
balance  sheet.  This  showed,  to  my  uncle's  great  delight,  that  the 
gross  amount  of  our  sales  had  more  than  half  equaled  our  office 
expenses. 

"  Yet  in  spite  of  my  success,  I  longed  to  return  home.  From 
the  first  this  city  was  distasteful  to  me.  The  extravagance  of  the  ladies' 
dresses,  the  profanity  of  the  stage-drivers,  the  struggle  for  rapid 
pecuniary  settlement,  were  all  evidence  to  me  of  the  godless  spirit 
that  pervades  its  society. 

"At  length  my  desire  to  return  to  Cleveland  overcame  my  fear 
of  facing  my  wife.  I  resolved,  however,  that  I  would  first  by  some 
brilliant  operation  add  to  the  money  which  I  had  laid  by  a  reputa- 
tion which  had  been  more  tardy. 

"  Our  company,  thanks  to  my  uncle's  loans,  was  otherwise,  with 
the  exception  of  a  small,  mortgage,  almost  out  of  debt. 

"  We  had  in  stock  about  a  hundred  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 
goods,  which  our  foolish  superintendent  at  Saybrook  had  manufac- 
tured. Our  book  account  footed  up  to  about  thirty  thousand  dollars 
of  good  bills  receivable.  Customers,  owing  to  the  excellence  of  our 
goods,  began  to  press  their  orders  upon  us.  Everything  seemed 
ripe  for  a  bold  push. 

"  One  morning  I  took  up  a  paper  and  read  an  account  of  a  bank- 
rupt with  five  million  dollars  of  debts  and  no  assets.  '  What  a 
dishonest  city,'  I  thought,  and  fell  into  a  long  reverie,  which  ended 
in  my  exclaiming:  'My  dear  children,  I  shall  soon  see  you  all 
again.' 

"A  week  later  I  was  taking  tea  with  my  uncle,  at  whose  house  I 
lived.  The  previous  evening  he  had  eaten  some  tapioca  pudding, 
and  was,  in  consequence,  a  little  indisposed.  I  had  important  news 
which,  as  he  was  afflicted  with  the  heart  disease,  I  wished  to  break 
to  him  cautiously. 

"'I  have  long  thought,'  I  said,  ' on  what  you,  my  dear  uncle, 
have  so  often  urged.  Nothing  so  disgraces  this  city  as  the  number 
of  fraudulent  bankruptcies  that  are  daily  occurring.  Credit  is  the 
life  of  business,  and  as  nothing  destroys  credit  so  much  as  a  dishon- 
est bankruptcy,  so  nothing  promotes  it  so  much  as  a  bankruptcy 
above  suspicion. 

"  '  Our  company  had  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  assets  and  no 
pressing  debts;  all  it  lacked  was  credit.  This  I  have  now  secured 
for  it.  I  have  sold  all  the  company's  goods  at  five  per  cent,  of  the 
list  price:  I  have  paid  my  salary  in  full,  and  I  have  placed  the 
company  in  bankruptcy.' 


THE  USTKSTOWK  CITY. 


43 


"  '  Put  my  compaDy  in  bankruptcy  1 '  cried  my  uncle,  rising  to 
his  feet. 

"  '  Think,'  I  cried,  '  of  the  glory  of  being  the  one  honest  bank- 
rupt in  the  world.' 

"My  uncle  made  no  reply,  but  seizing  a  fork,  thrust  it  with  all 
his  force  into  my  cheek. 

"  'Begone  out  of  my  sight,  you  viper,'  he  cried,  '  or  you  shall 
spend  the  rest  of  your  life  in  prison.' 

"Fearing  that  his  insanity  might  prompt  him  to  some  act  of 
folly,  I  left  the  ungrateful  old  man  and  shall  start  for  Cleveland  to- 
night. "Will  you  not  lend  me  five  cents  to  pay  my  car  fare.  I  hate 
to  break  into  a  dollar  bill;  it  seems  to  melt  away  so  fast.' 

"  Mr.  Flint  wrapped  a  scarf  around  his  neck  and  rose  to  take 
his  leave, 

"I  had  listened  to  his  story  with  an  interest  which  had  soon 
grown  as  personal  as  it  was  intense. 

"  '  What  is  the  name  of  your  uncle? '  I  asked,  in  the  faint  hope 
that  I  might  be  mistaken. 

"  '  Oscar  Terriberry,'  he  replied.  Then  shaking  me  by  the  hand, 
and  begging  me  to  call  upon  him  if  I  ever  came  to  Cleveland,  he 
hastened  down  the  stairs. 

" '  Oscar  Terriberry,'  I  repeated,  looking  vacantly  at  my  client's 
retreating  form.  '  The  one  man  in  the  world  whom  I  hoped  would 
save  me  from  starvation — ruined.' 

" That  very  day  I  called  to  pay  my  respects  to  my  two  uncles; 
but  it  was  too  late.  Both  old  gentlemen  had  died  the  previous 
night,  within  a  half  hour  of  each  other,  the  one  leaving  all  his  prop- 
erty to  his  wife,  the  other  having  none  to  leave  to  any  one. 

"Though bitterly  disappointed,  the  pittance  I  received  as  office 
boy  enabled  me  to  continue  starving,  and  I  kept  on  grimly  at  my 
work. 

"  My  employer  had  a  suite  of  offices,  of  which  one  small  room, 
three  removes  from  the  main  office,  served  as  his  sanctum.  This 
little  crib  he  insisted  on  having  kept  warm  by  a  stove  which  stood 
in  the  large  office,  where  I  had  my  desk.  This  raised  the  tempera- 
ture so  high  that  in  the  middle  of  winter  I  was  thrown  into  a  fever 
which  cost  me  my  hair  and  situation. 

"I  was  taken  to  a  hospital,  and  when  I  came  out  was  in  despair 
where  to  turn.  At  last  I  resolved  to  a.<k  my  uncle  Terriberry's 
widow,  though  I  knew  she  had  little  love  for  his  relatives,  for  assist 
ance. 


44 


THE  UNK^OWtf  CITY. 


"I  found,  to  my  surprise,  that  she  was  as  kind-hearted  as  she 
was  attractive.  She  listened  to  me  and  gave  me  a  friendly  letter  to 
a  homoeopathic  doctress,  whowas  not  less  skillful  with  her  knife 
than  with  her  pill. 

"  The  latter  lady,  on  receiving  my  letter,  said  that  she  had  often 
heard  of  my  mother's  devotion  to  the  great  cause.  '  I  will  employ 
you,'  she  said  to  me,  4  at  present  in  proving  the  effects  of  some  of 
our  pills.  This  will  enable  you  to  exist  until  something  more  pleas- 
ant turns  up.' 

"  Glad  of  the  chance,  I  accepted  her  offer,  and  every  day  took  a 
handful  of  her  pretty  nostrums  to  my  room.  Instead  of  swallowing 
them,  however,  I  threw  them  from  the  window.  Then  sitting  down 
I  wrote  an  account  of  the  effects  of  the  previous  dose  so  clear  and 
striking  that,  as  I  have  since  been  informed,  half  the  data  from 
which  that  growing  branch  of  medical  science  is  nourished  have  been 
taken  from  my  reports. 

"One  day  the  Lady  of  Infinitesimals  came  to  me  with  a  face  of 
importance. 

"  '  A  project  is  on  foot,'  she  said,  'by  which  you  can  make  a 
considerable  sum  of  money.  But  the  matter  must  be  kept  in  the 
grave.  The  stupid  public  would  raise  an  outcry,  and  the  authorities 
would  suppress  it.  We  wish  to  show  our  pupils  something  that  no 
other  school  has  ever  offered.  The  performance  will  be  fatiguing, 
but  the  pay  large.    Will  you  act  for  us?' 

"  '  Certainly,  my  dear  friend,'  I  answered,  'I  will  gladly  promise 
anything.    Let  your  only  concern  be  to  discover  what  you  wish.' 

"  '  We  wish  the  vivisection  of  a  man,'  answered  the  doctress, 
archly. 

'"The  what?'  I  asked,  for  the  idea,  though  novel  and  full  of 
utility,  jarred  upon  my  nerves. 

"  '  A  vivisection  ! '  she  repeated,  '  to  show  the  action  of  the  nerves 
and  muscles  of  the  human  hand  and  foot.' 

'"Ah,  certainly,'  I  replied,  forcing  my  politeness  a  little.  'In 
case  of  my  death  ' 

"  '  There  is  little  fear  of  death.'  she  answered,  pleasantly;  '  only 
the  movements  may  be  somewhat  painful.  But  think  it  over  to- 
night.' 

"I  did  so,  and  it  would  be  an  error  to  suppose  that  I  slept  the 
sounder.  But  my  poverty:  the  debt  I  owed  a  sister  profession:  my 
ambition:  the  large  reward.  '  I  will  do  it,'  I  cried  at  length,  *  come 
what  may ! ' 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITT. 


45 


"  A  week  later  I  was  fastened  upon  a  table  in  the  lecture-room, 
which  was  soon  crowded  with  a  select  audience  of  physicians  and 
students. 

"  It  may,  perhaps,  be  as  well  to  draw  a  veil  over  the  details  that 
followed.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  every  one  was  delighted,  and  my 
devotion  to  science  was  loudly  applauded. 

"  The  students  were  especially  charmed,  and  during  my  most 
painful  contortions  I  heard  one  rosy-cheeked  girl  whisper  to  her 
comrade  that  stiffs  were  played  out. 

"  And  yet  what  children  of  chance  we  are! 

"  My  friend,  the  d octrees,  had  been  brought  up  all  her  life  in  the 
school  of  reason.  She  had  now  reached  a  certain  age  which  she 
scorned  to  deny.  Yet  her  lips  were  still  rosy,  her  eye  bright,  and 
her  step  elastic. 

*'  She  had  been  married  but  few  times,  all  marriages  of  reason, 
and  her  last  husband  was  but  just  dead. 

"Yet,  during  the  very  first  lecture  her  eye  softened  as  it  met 
mine,  and  at  my  last  appearance  her  hand  trembled  so  that  I  had  to 
caution  her  not  to  cut  herself. 

"All  this  my  modesty  laid  to  the  softness  of  a  woman's  heart. 
What,  then,  was  my  surprise  after  the  spectators  had  gone  to  hear 
her  pour  forth  a  declaration  of  love.  In  vain  I  pleaded  my  youth, 
my  inexperience,  and  her  own  recent  bereavement.  Piqued  at  my 
demurring,  she  seized  a  galvanic  battery  and  gave  me  a  shock  that 
forced  me  to  surrender  at  discretion. 

"  She  then  at  once  drew  out  a  paper  and  made  me  sign  the  fol- 
lowing contract: 

"  '  For  value  received,  I  promise  to  marry  on  demand,  to  the  or- 
der of  Emma  Brownlow.  Robert  Turner.'  Then  untying  me, 
she  smothered  me  with  embraces,  gave  me  a  hundred  dollars,  the 
balance  of  my  earnings,  and  helped  me  to  a  carriage. 

"In  a  few  days  my  wounds  were  healed,  but  now  began  my  real 
torture. 

"  The  pent-up  affections  of  forty  years  was  launched  upon  my 
head.  Between  sighs  and  tears,  half  the  time  in  a  furnace  and  half 
in  the  ocean,  I  prayed  to  be  transformed  into  a  flying  fish  or  a 
salamander. 

"  'Can  Heaven  invent  a  misery  to  equal  mine?'  I  asked;  an  inquiry 
that  was  soon  answered.  A  few  weeks  later  the  doctress  caught  a 
dangerous  disease  from  her  devotion  to  a  pauper's  child,  and  died. 

"  My  regret  at  her  death  was,  I  confess,  tempered  by  the  pleasure 


46 


THE  UNKNOWN  CITY. 


of  finding  myself  free.  Imagine  my  horror  on  learning  that  just  be- 
fore her  death  she  had  assigned  my  promise  of  marriage  to  an  elder 
sister,  a  woman  ten  years  her  senior,  and  as  hideous  as  my  friend 
was  engaging. 

"The  day  after  the  doctress's  funeral,  my  new  mistress  hastened 
to  claim  my  hand. 

"  In  a  moment  of  rage  I  swore  to  her  that  I  would  sooner  marry 
my  grandmother. 

"  This  made  her  so  indignant  that  she  flew  from  the  house,  and 
that  very  day  had  me  arrested  for  breach  of  promise,  and  I  know  not 
what  other  horrible  charges. 

'  *  The  lawyers,  as  the  woman  herself  had  had  the  assurance  to 
tell  me,  declare  that  this  is  a  case  of  first  impression. 

"  Is  a  written  promise  to  marry  to  one's  order  assignable? 

"The  question  is  hotly  debated,  and  will  not  probably  be  decided 
for  many  years. 

"  As  I  have  no  friends  to  go  bail  for  me,  I  shall  probably  pass 
the  rest  of  my  life  in  that  asylum  of  the  good  and  free,  the  state 
prison." 

"By  the  bones  of  my  ancestors,"  cried  Rutgers,  "  I  will  bail  you 
out  of  the  arms  of  all  the  widows  and  spinsters  in  New  York.  An 
ingrate  could  do  no  less  after  such  a  story.  But  I  suggest  that  we 
now  go  to  sleep.  The  night  is  far  spent,  and  if  we  are  not  virtuous 
in  prison,  what  will  become  of  us  elsewhere?" 

{To  be  continued.) 


Part  II.  of  The  Unknown  City,  by  W.  T.  Washburn,  will  be 
published  May  24,  1879. 


THE   PORTRAIT   AST)    OTHER  POEMS. 
New  York.   Jesse  Haney  &  Co. 

[Continued  from  Second  Cover  Page.] 

Students  of  the  technics  of  verse  will  remark,  here  reproduced,  a 
somewhat  elaborate  Latin  metre,  whose  unit  is  that  four-syllabled 
foot  exacting  the  odd  sequence  of  trochee  and  iamb,  which  plays  so 
large  a  part  in  the  structure  of  Horace's  odes.  The  difficulty  of 
this  feat  can  only  be  measured  by  experiment,  but  all  can  appreciate 
the  rhythmic  effect  secured  by  it,  as  well  as  the  music  which 
these  lines  have  won  from  a  happy  use  of  alliteration: 

Silvery  net,  silvery  net, 
Woven  with  care,  warily  set, 
Lier-in-wait,  thief  of  the  sea, 
Win  from  the  deep  treasure  for  me. 

In  a  group  of  forty  or  fifty  lyrics,  there  are,  of  course,  marked 
differences  of  merit.  On  the  whole,  however,  the  execution  is  so 
careful  and  felicitous  that  we  are  indisposed  to  dwell  on  minor 
faults,  but  pass  to  some  remarkable  lines  entitled  "Science."  We 
have  not  forgotten  "  In  Memoriam;"  but  we  are  of  opinion  that  the 
new  problems  suggested  by  the  expanding  horizon  of  knowledge 
have  seldom  received  more  poignant  formulation  than  in  the  poem 
from  which  we  make  the  following  citations : 

What  art  thou,  Spectre  of  Despair, 
Borne  upon  the  wing  of  night? 

We  can  quote  no  further  from  the  above  poem,  but  we  have 
given  the  reader  the  means  of  judging  what  manner  of  man  this 
anonymous  poet  is.  Certainly  it  would  be  entirely  superfluous  to 
point  out  the  imaginative  power  exerted  in  the  above  passages.  Let 
us  call  to  mind,  for  instance,  those  hints  of  incalculable  distance 
which  astronomers  despair  to  formulate  even  in  terms  of  time,  and 
then  ponder  the  force  of  the  fine  couplet: 

To-night's  forgetful  fountain  spring, 
Where  tired  time  sits  with  folded  wing! 

The  long  poem  which  gives  a  title  to  this  volume — "The  Por- 
trait " — is  a  love  stor}r,  turning  on  a  situation  which,  so  far  as  we 
know,  is  novel,  and,  at  all  events,  is  charming. 

Certain  it  is  that  an  author  whose  first  work  exhibits  so  much  of 
excellence  will  be  heard  from  again;  and  he  is  likely  to  occupy  n* 
humble  place  among  the  poets  of  this  country.— iVr..  T.  Sun. 


By  W.  T.  WASHBURN. 

Each. 

Poems.— Vol.  l.   l2mo,  cloth   75c. 

Poems.— Vol.  2.    12mo,  cloth   75c. 

The  Dicers  and  other  Poems.  l'2mo,  paper,  25c. 

Jesse  haney  &  Co. 


Fair  Harvard.— A  Story  of  Harvard 

College.    121110,  cloth  $1  50 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS.  ■ 

The  above  Books  are  for  sale  by  all  Booksellers. 


Five  New  Songs.— 

Silvery  Net   30c. 

The  Wind's  Reply   30c. 

The  Maid  of  the  Delaware  •. .  30c. 

"  My  Lover,  Hast  Thou  Come  again  ? ". . .  30c. 

A  Bird  Sang  over  the  Wave   30c. 

WM.  A.  POND  &  CO. 


